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ADVERTISEMENT. 


In  bringing  before  the  American  readers,  "  The 
Pickwick  Papers,"  the  publishers  cannot  introduce 
them  with  a  better  description  of  their  nature,  than 
the  following,  from  the  London  Examiner,  and 
other  periodicals.  The  author  under  the  fictitious 
name  of  Boz,  is  Mr.  Charles  Dickens,  whose  series 
of  sketches  of  "  Watkins  Tottle,"  "  Tuggs's  at 
Ramsgate,"  ''Life  of  Mr.  Tulrumble,"  "Oliver 
Twist,"  &c.,  has  acquired  for  himself  a  high  place 
in  the  ranks  of  comic  literature. 


"The  idea  worked  out  is  that  of  a  '  faithful  record  of  the  pe- 
rambulations, perils,  travels,  adventures,  and  sporting  transac- 
tions, of  the  corresponding-  members  of  a  cockney  club,  found- 
ed by  Mr.  Pickwick,  for  the  promotion  of  science,  the  advance- 
ment of  knowledg-e,  and  the  diffusion  of  learning-.'  The  cor- 
responding- members  consist  of  the  illustrious  founder  himself, 
whose  character  is  sustained  throughout  with  a  very  romantic 
g-ravity,  and  of  Messrs.  Tupman,  Snodgrass,  and  Winkle,  who 
are  respectfully  distinguished  by  the  admiration  of  the  fair  sex, 
a  taste  for  poetry,  and  a  sporting-  turn.  The  different  parties 
play  upon  one  another's  fiiilings,  and  into  one  another's  hands; 
the  plot  of  their  adventures  is  kept  up  with  infinite  liveliness, 
bustle,  point,  and  interest — and  many  rich  sources  of  the  truly 
ludicrous  are  opened." — Examiner. 

"  The  idea  of  this  publication  is  a  very  happy  one.  It  pur- 
ports to  contain  the  transactions  of  a  club  of  orig-inals — thorough 
Cockneys,  with  knowledge  and  ideas  confined  within  the  boun- 
daries of  London,  and  profoundly  ignorant  of  every  thing  beyond. 
The  work  is  thus  made  the  vehicle  for  a  series  of  most  amusing 
.idventures  and  lively  descriptions  full  of  the  truth  and  humour 
of  Fielding  and  SmoUet,  and  skilfully  mingled  with  scenes  of 
powerful  interest  and  deep  pathos." — Morning  Chronicle 
1 


•'  There  is  as  much  genuine  humour,  and  as  much  real  fun,  in 
the  Pickwick  Papers,  as  in  these  days  generally  fall  to  the  share 
of  half  a  dozen  hooks  of  the  same  size.  If  they  keep  up  to  their 
present  level,  they  will  in  conclusion,  assume  a  high  place  in 
the  ranks  of  comic  literature." — John  Bull. 

"  Heaven  help  the  man  who  gets  hold  of  this  book  in  the  midst 
of  business,  for  if  it  do  not  cause  him  to  neglect  it,  he  can  have 
no  taste  for  the  ludicrous,  for  the  truly  comic  both  in  situation 
and  conduct.  The  characters  are  nicely  discriminated,  and 
when  we  derive  so  much  amusement  even  on  the  threshold,  we 
cannot  possibly  conjecture  the  store  of  fun  and  good  things  that 
await  us  as  we  travel  through  the  remainder  of  the  work." — 
Tyne  Mercury. 

"To  the  laughter-loving,  reader,  the  Pickwick  Papers  must 
prove  a  rich  acquisition;  and  we  defy  the  owner  of  the  most 
frigid  visage  to  scan  over  them  without  a  violent  excitement  of 
his  risible  faculties." — Lincoln  Gazette. 

"The  existence  of  this  original  and  amusing  periodical  can 
be  no  news  to  any  of  our  readers,  for  it  is  every  where  received 
(in  theatrical  phrase)  with  '  shouts  of  laughter  and  applause.' 
It  well  deserves  such  a  reception.  'Boz '  is  a  writer  of  a  very 
uncommon  cast;  his  genius  seems  to  belong  to  a  former  age  of 
English  literature;  his  spirit  is  akin  to  that  of  our  Fieldingsand 
Smollets. 

"The  hint  of  this  book  seems  to  have  been  taken  and  impro- 
ved upon  from  the  whimsical  descriptions  of  various  clubs,  con- 
sisting of  humourists  of  diflTcrent  kinds,  given  in  the  *  Spectator.' 
The  Pickwick  Club  is  a  felicitous  creation  in  itself,  and  a  con- 
venient vehicle  for  an  unlimited  variety  of  satire^  narrative,  and 
description.  The  members  of  the  club  are  a  set  of  Cockneys, 
ardent  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge,  which  they  seek  under  the 
auspices  of  their  President,  the  illustrious  Samuel  Pickwick,  a 
great  plulosopher  in  little  things,  who,  after  having  directed  their 
researches  into  the  wonders  of  nature  and  art  in  the  regions  of 
Hornsey,  Highgate,  Brixton,  and  Camberwell, — after  having 
traced  to  their  source  the  mighty  ponds  of  Hamstead,  and  agi- 
tated the  scientific  world  witl\  his  theory  of  titlebats, — suggests 
to  his  followers  the  advantages  which  must  result  from  carrying 
his  speculations  into  a  wider  field.  He  is  accordingly  placed 
at  the  head  of  a  corresponding  deputation,  the  membei-s  of 
which  are  excellently  chosen  for  our  author's  purpose." — New_ 
Monthly  Magazine. 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS 


OF   THE 


PICKWICK   CLUB 


CONTAINING  A  FAITHFUL  RECORD  OF  THE 


PERAMBULATIONS,  PERILS,  ADVENTURES  AND  SPORTING 
TRANSACTIONS 


CORRESPONDING  MEMBERS 


EDITED  BY  ^'BOZ.' 


PART   FIRST. 

THIRD  EDITION. 


PHILADELPHIA: 
CAREY,  LEA  &  BLANCHARD. 

1837, 


»«ia&s  &  CO-  pniNTEns. 


''■''        INTRODUCTION. 


Teie  Pickwick  Club,  so  renowned  in  the  annals 
of  Huggin  Lane,  and  so  closely  entwined  with  the 
thousand  interesting  associations  connected  with 
Lothbury  and  Cateaton  Street,  was  founded  in  the 
vear  One  Thousand  Eight  Hundred  and  Twenty- 
two,  by  Mr.  Samuel  Pickwick — the  great  travel- 
ler, whose  fondness  for  the  useful  arts  prompted  his 
celebrated  journey  to  Birmingham  in  the  depth  of 
winter;  and  whose  taste  for  the  Beauties  of  Na- 
ture, even  led  him  to  penetrate  to  the  very  borders 
of  Wales  in  the  height  of  summer. 

This  remarkable  man  would  appear  to  have  in- 
fused a  considerable  portion  of  his  restless  and  in- 
quiring spirit  into  the  breasts  of  other  Members 
.^of  the  Club,  and  to  have  awakened  in  their  minds 
I'the  same  insatiable  thirst  for  travel,  which  so  emi- 
— nently  characterized  his  own.     The  whole  surface 
>~of  Middlesex,  a  part  of  Surrey;  a  portion  of  Es- 
^sex,  and  several  square  miles  of  Kent,  were  in  their 
turns    examined,    and  reported  on.     In    a    rapid 
Steamer,    they    smoothly   navigated    the    placid 
Thames ;    and,  in  an    open  boat,   they  fearlessly 
crossed  the  turbid  Medway.     High-roads  and  by- 
roads, towns  and  villages,  public  conveyances  and 
their  passengers,  first-rate  inns  and  road-side  pub- 
lic houses,  races,  fairs,  regattas,  elections,  meetings, 
market-days — all  the  scenes  that  can  possibly  occur, 
to  enliven  a  country  place,  and  at  which  different 
traitsof  character  may  be  observed  and  recognised, 
were  alike  visited  and  beheld  by  the  ardent  Pick- 
wick, and  his  enthusiastic  followers. 


VI  INTRODUCTION. 

The  Pickwick  Travels,  the  Pickwick  Diary,  the 
Pickwick  Correspondence — in  short,  the  whole  of 
the  Pickwick  Papers — were  carefully  preserved 
and  duly  registered  by  the  Secretary,  from  time  to 
time,  in  the  voluminous  Transactions  of  the  Pick- 
wick Club.  These  Transactions  have  been  pur- 
chased, from  the  Patriotic  Secretary,  at  an  immense 
expense,  and  placed  in  the  hands  of  "  Boz,"  the  au- 
thor of  "  Sketches  Illustrative  of  Every  Day  Life, 
and  Every  Day  People  " — a  gentleman  whom  the 
publishers  consider  highly  qualified  for  the  task  of 
arranging  these  important  documents,  and  placing 
them  before  the  public  in  an  attractive  form. 

London,  1836. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 


Page 
THE  PICKWICKIANS.  -----  13 

CHAPTER  II. 

THE  FIRST  day's  JOURNEY,  AND  THE  FIRST  EVEN- 

ING'sADVENTURESJ  WITH  THEIR  CONSEqUENCES.     20 

CHAPTER  III. 

A  NEW  ACQUAINTANCE— THE    STROLLEr's  TALE 

A    disagreeable    interruption;    and    AN  UN- 
PLEASANT RENCONTRE.  -  -  -  -  57 

CHAPTER  rV. 

A  FIELD-DAY  AND  BIVOUAC MORE  NEW  FRIENDS^ 

AND  AN  INVITATION  TO  THE  COUNTRY.  -  73 


CHAPTER  V. 

A  SHORT  ONE SHOWING,  AMONG  OTHER  MATTERS, 

HOW  MR.  PICKWICK  UNDERTOOK  TO  DRIVE,  AND 
MR.  WINKLE  TO  RIDEJ  AND  HOW  THEY  BOTH  DID 
IT.  ------- 


CHAPTER  VI. 


AN    OLD-FASHIONED    CARD  PARTY THE    CLERGY- 
MAN'S VERSES THE    STORY  OF    THE   CONVICT's 


90 


RETURN. 


104 


Vin  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

HOW  MR.  WINKLE,  INSTEAD  OF  SHOOTING  AT  THE 
PIGEON  AND  KILLING  THE    CROW,  SHOT  AT  THE 

CROW    AND  WOUNDED    THE    PIGEON HOW  THE 

DINGLEY  DELL  CRICKET  CLUB  PLAYED  ALL  MUG- 
GLETON,  AND  HOW  ALL  MUGGLETON  DINED  AT 
THE  DIXGLEY  DELL  EXPENSE WITH  OTHER  IN- 
TERESTING AND  INSTRUCTIVE  MATTERS.         -  125 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

STRONGLY  ILLUSTRATIVE  OF  THE  POSITION,  THAT 

THE  COURSE  OF  TRUE  LOVE  IS  NOT  A  RAILWAY.       145 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A  DISCOVERY  AND  A  CHASE.  -  -  _  Igg 

CHAPTER  X. 

CLEARING  UP  ALL  DOUBTS  (iF  ANY  EXISTED)  OF 
THE  DISINTERESTEDNESS  OF  MR.  JINGLe's  CHA- 
RACTER. -  -  -  -  -  -  176 

CHAPTER  XI. 

MNVOLVING  ANOTHER  JOURNEY,  AND  AN  ANTIQUA- 
RIAN DISCOVERY,  RECORDING  MR.  PICKWICk's 
DETERMINATION  TO  BE  PRESENT  AT  AN  ELEC- 
TION; AND  CONTAINING  A  MANUSCRIPT  OF  THE 
OLD  clergyman's.  -  -  -  -  195 


peSTHUMOlIS-PAPERS^  &e, 


CHAPTER  I. 


THE  PICKWICKIAN^. 


The  first  ray  of  light  which  ilhi mines  the  gloom, 
and  converts  into  a  dazzling  brilliancy  that  obscu- 
rity in  which  the  earlier  history  of  the  public  career 
of  the  immortal  Pickwick  would  appear  to  be  in- 
volved, is  derived  from  the  perusal  of  the  following 
entry  in  the  Transactions  of  the  Pickwick  Ckib, 
which  the  editor  of  these  papers  feels  the  highest 
pleasure  in  laying  before  his  readers,  as  a  proof  of 
the  careful  attention,  indefatigable  assiduity,  and 
nice  discrimination,  with  which  his  search  among 
the  multifarious  documents  confided  to  him  has 
been  conducted. 

"  May  12,  1817.  Joseph  Smiggers,  Esq.,  P.  Vc 
P.  M.  P.  C*  presiding.  The  following  resolutions 
■  unanimously  agreed  to. 

"  That  this  Association  has  heard  read,  with 
Teelings  of  unmingled  satisfaction,  and  unqualified 
approval,  the  paper  communicated  by  Samuel 
Pickwick,  Esq.,  G.  C.  M.  P.  C.f  entitled  "  Specu- 
lations on  the  Source  of  the  Hampstead  Ponds, 
with  some  observations  on  the  Theory  of  Tittle- 
bats;'* and  that  this  Association  does  hereby  return 

*  Perpetual  Vice  President — Member  Pickwick  Club. — Eo. 
:|-  Genei-al  Chairman — Member  Pickwick  Club. — Ed. 

2 


14  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

its  warmest  thanks  to  the  said  Samuel  Pickwick, 
Esq.,  G.  C.  M.  P.  C.  for  the  same. 

"That  while  this  Association  is  deeply  sensible 
of  the  advantages  which  must  accrue  to  the  cause 
of  science,  from  the  production  to  which  the)^  have 
just  adverted,  no  less  than  from  the  unwearied  re- 
searches of  Samuel  Pickwick,  Esq.,  G.  C.  M.  P.O. 
in  Hornsey,  Highgate,  Brixton,  and  Camberwelh 
they  cannot  but  entertain  a  lively  sense  of  the  in- 
estimable benefits  which  must  inevitably  result 
from  carrying  the  speculations  of  that  learned  man 
into  a  wider  field,  from  extending  his  travels,  and 
consequently  enlarging  his  sphere  of  observations  to 
the  advancement  of  knowledge,  and  the  diffusion 
of  learning. 

"  That  with  the  view,  just  mentioned,  this  Asso- 
ciation has  taken  into  its  serious  consideration  a 
proposal,  emanating  from  the  aforesaid  Samuel 
Pickwick,  Esq.,  G.  C.  M.  P.  C,  and  three  other 
Pickwickians,  hereinafter  named,  for  forming  a 
new  branch  of  United  Pickwickians,  under  the  ti- 
tle of  The  Corresponding  Society  of  the  Pickwick 
€lub. 

"  That  the  said  proposal  has  received  the  sanc- 
tion and  ap|3roval  of  this  Association. 

"That  the  Corresponding  Society  of  the  Pick- 
wick Club,  is  therefore  hereby  constituted  ;  and 
that  Samuel  Pickwick,  Esq.,  G".  C.  M.  P.  C,  Tracy 
Tupman,  Esq.,  M.  P.  C,  Augustus  Snod^rass,  Esq., 
M.  P.  C,  and  Nathaniel  Winkle,  Esq.,  M.  P.  C,  are 
hereby  nominated  and  appointed  members  of  the 
same:  and  that  they  be  requested  to  forward,  from 
time  to  time,  authenticated  accounts  of  their  jour- 
neys and  investigations;  of  their  observations  of 
character  and  manners;  and  of  the  whole  of  their 
adventures,  together  with  all  tales  and  papers,  to 
which  local  scenery  or  associations  may  give  rise, 
to  the  Pickwick  Club,  stationed  in  London. 


THE   PICKWICK  CLUB.  15 

"That  this  Association  cordially  recognises  the 
principle  of  every  member  of  the  Corresponding 
Society  defraying  his  own  travelling  expenses;  and 
that  it" sees  no  objection  whatever  to  the  members 
of  the  said  society  pursuing  their  inquiries  for  any 
length  of  time  they  please,  upon  the  same  terms. 

"That  the  members  of  the  aforesaid  Correspond- 
ing Society,  be,  and  are,  hereby  informed,  that 
their  proposal  to  pay  the  postage  of  their  letters, 
and  the  carriage  of  their  parcels,  has  been  delibe- 
rated upon,  by  this  Association.  That  this  Asso- 
ciation considers  such  proposal  worthy  of  the  great 
minds  from  which  it  em.anated ;  and  that  it  hereby 
signifies  its  perfect  acquiescence  therein." 

A  casual  observer,  adds  the  secretary,  to  whose 
notes  we  are  indebted  for  the  following  account — 
a  casual  observer  might  possibly  have  remarked 
nothing  extraordinary  in  the  bald  head,  and  circu- 
lar spectacles,  which  were  intently  turned  towards 
his  (the  secretary's)  face,  during  the  reading  of 
the  above  resolutions.  To  those  who  knew  that 
the  gigantic  brain  of  Pickwick  was  working  be- 
neath that  forehead,  and  that  the  beaming  eyes  of 
Pickwick  were  twinkling  behind  those  glasses,  the 
sight  was  indeed  an  interesting  one.  There  sat 
the  man  who  had  traced  to  their  source  the  mighty 
ponds  of  Hampstead,  and  agitated  the  scientific 
world  with  his  Theory  of  Tittlebats,  as  calm  and 
unmoved  as  the  deep  waters  of  the  one  on  a  frosty 
day,  or  as  a  solitary  specimen  of  the  other,  in  the 
inmost  recesses  of  an  earthen  jar.  And  how  much 
more  interesting  did  the  spectacle  become,  when, 
starting  into  full  life  and  animation,  as  a  simulta- 
neous call  for  "  Pickwick"  burst  from  his  followers,, 
that  illustrious  man  slowly  mounted  into  1  he  Wind- 
sor chair,  on  which  he  had  been  previously  seated, 
and  addressed  the  club  himself  had  founded. 
What  a  study  for  an  artist  did  that  exciting  scene 


16  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

present !  The  eloquent  Pickwick,  with  one  hanci 
gracefully  concealed  behind  his  coat  tails,  and  the 
other  waving  in  air  to  assist  his  glowing  declama- 
tion :  his  elevated  position  revealing  those  tights 
and  gaiters,  which  had  they  clothed  an  ordinary 
man,  might  have  passed  without  observation,  but 
which,  when  Pickwick  clolhed  them — if  we  may 
use  the  expression — inspired  involuntary  awe  and 
respect;  surrounded  by  the  men  who  had  volun- 
teered to  share  the  perils  of  his  travels,  and  who 
were  destined  to  participate  in  the  glories  of  his 
discoveries.  On  his  right  hand,  sat  Mr.  Tracy 
Tupman ;  the  too  susceptible  Tupman,  who  to  the 
wdsdom  and  experience  of  maturer  years  super- 
added the  enthusiasm  and  ardour  of  a  boy,  in  the 
most  interesting  and  pardonable  of  human  weak- 
nesses—love. Time  and  feeding  had  expanded 
that  once  romantic  form,  the  black  silk  waist-coat 
had  become  more  and  more  developed ;  inch  by 
inch  had  the  gold  watch-chain  beneath  it  disap- 
peared from  within  the  range  of  Tupman's  vision; 
and  gradually  had  the  capacious  chin  encroached 
Upon  the  borders  of  the  white  cravat,  but  the  soul 
of  Tupman  had  known  no  change — admiration  of 
the  fair  sex  was  still  its  ruling  passion.  On  the 
left  of  his  great  leader  sat  the  poetic  Snodgrass, 
and  near  him  again  the  sporting  Winkle,  the  for- 
mer poetically  enveloped  in  a  mysterious  blue  cloak 
with  a  canine  skin  collar^  and  the  latter  commu- 
nicating additional  lustre  to  a  new  green  shooting 
coat,  plaid  neckerchief,  and  closely  fitted  drabs. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  oration  upon  this  occasion,  to- 
gether with  the  debate  thereon,  is  entered  on  the 
Transactions  of  the  Club.  Both  bear  a  strong 
affinity  to  the  discussions  of  other  celebrated  bo- 
dies; and,  as  it  is  always  interesting  to  trace  a  re- 
semblance between  the  proceedings  of  great  men. 
w(^  transfer  the  entry  to  these  pages. 


TETE  PTCXWICK  CLUB.  1^ 

-*  Mr.  Pickwick  observed  (says  the  Secretary) 
diat  fame  was  dear  to  the  heart  of  every  man. 
Foetic  fame  was  dear  to  the  heart  of  his  friend' 
Snodgrass,  the  fame  of  conquest  was  equally  dear 
to  his  friend  Tupman ;  and  the  desire  of  earning 
fame,  in  the  sports  of  the  field,  the  air,  and  the 
water,  was  uppermost  in  the  breast  of  his  friend 
Winkle.  He  (Mr.  Pickwick)  would  not  deny,  that 
he  was  influenced  by  human  passions,  and  human 
feelings,  (cheers) — possibly  b}^  human  weaknesses 
(loud  cries  of  *'No;")  but  this  he  would  say,  that 
if  ever  the  fire  of  seli-importance  broke  out  in  his 
bosom,  the  desire  to  benefit'  the  human  race  in  pre- 
ference, eftectually  quenched  it.  The  praise  of 
mankind  was  his  swing;  philanthropy  was  his  in- 
surance office.  (Vehement  cheering.)  He  had 
felt  some  pride — he  acknowledged  it  freely;  and 
let  his  enemies  make  the  most  of  it — he  had  felt 
some  pride  when  he  presented  his  Tittlebatian 
Theory  to  the  world  ;  it  might  be  celebrated  or  it 
might  not.  (A  cry  of  "  It  is,"  and  great  cheering.) 
He  would  take  the  assertion  of  that  honourable 
Pickwickian  whose  voice  he  had  just  heard — it 
was  celebrated;  but  if  the  fame  of  that  treatise 
were,  to  extend  to  the  farthest  confines  of  the 
known. world,  the  pride  with  which  he  should  re- 
flect on  the  authorship  of  that  production,  would 
be  as  nothing  compared  with  the  pride  with  which 
he  looked  around  him,  on  this,  the  proudest  mo- 
ment of  his  existence.  (Cheers.)  He  was  an  hum- 
ble individual.  (No,  no.)  Still  he  could  not  but 
feel  that  they  had  selected  him  for  a  service  of 
great  honour,  and  of  some  danger.  Travelling  was 
in  a  troubled  state,  and  the  minds  of  coachmen 
were  unsettled.  Let  them  look  abroad,  and  con- 
template the  scenes  which  were  enacting  around, 
them.  Stage  coaches  were  upsetting  in  all  direc- 
tions, horses  were  bolting,  boats  were  overturning, 

2* 


i8'5  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

and  boilers  were  bursting.  (Cheers — a  voice 
"No."  No!  (Cheers.)  Let  that  honourable 
Pickwickian  who  cried  "  No  "  so  loudly,  come  for- 
ward and  deny  it,  if  he  could.  (Cheers.)  Who 
was  it  that  cried  "No?'  (Enthusiastic  cheering.) 
Was  it  some  vain  and  disappointed  man — he  would 
not  say  haberdasher— (loud  cheers) — who,  jealous 
o£the  praise  which  had  been— perhaps  undeserved- 
ly—bestowed on  his  (Mr.  Pickwick's)  researches, 
and  smarting  under  the  censure  which  had  been 
heaped  upon  his  own  feeble  attempts  at  rivalry, 
noyvr  took  this  vile  and  calumnious  mode  of 

"  Mr.  Blottoiv,  (of  Aldgate,)  rose  to  order.  Did 
the  honourable  Pickwickian  allude  to  him?  (Cries 
of  "Order,"  "Chair,"  "Yes,"  "No,"  "Go  on," 
"  Leave  off,"  &c) 

Mr.  Pickwick  would  not  be  put  up  to  be  put  down 
by,  clamour.  He  had  alluded  to  the  honourable 
gentleman.     (Great  excitement.) 

"  Mr.  Blotton  would  only  say  then,  that  he  re= 
pelled  the.hon.  gent's,  false  and  scurrilous  accusa- 
tiofi,  with  profound  contempt.  (Great  cheering.) 
The  hon.  gent,  was  a  humbug.  (Immense  confu- 
sion, and  loud  cries  of  "chair"  and  ''  order.")    ^^ 

"  Mr.  A.  Snodgrass  rose  to  order.  He  lhrev,r 
himself  upon  the  chair.  (Hear.)  He  ^vished  to 
know,  whether  this  disgraceful  contest  between 
twp  members  of  that  club,  should  be  allowed  to 
continue.     (Hear,  hear.) 

"The  Chairman  was  quite  sure  the  hon.  Pick- 
wickian would  withdraw  the  expression  lie  had 
just  made  use  of. 

*'Mr.  Blotton,  with  all  possible  respect  for  the 
chair,  was  quite  sure  he  would  not. 

"  The  Chairman  felt  it  his  imperative  duty  to 
de^nand  of  the  honourable  gentleman,  whether  he 
had  used  the  expression  which  had  just  escaped 
him,  in  a  common  sense. 


THC  PICKWICK  CLU«.  ID 

"  Mr.  Blotton  had  no  hesitation  in  sayingv  that 
he  had  nf>t-^he  had  used  the  word  in  its  Pick- 
wickian sense.  (Hear,  hear.)  He  was  bound  to 
acknowledge,  that,  personally,  he  entertained  the 
highest  regard  and  esteem  for  the  honourable 
gentleman;  he  had  merely  considered  him  a  hum- 
bug in  a  Pickwickian  point  of  view.     (Hear,  hear.) 

'•  Mr.  Pickwick  felt  much  gratified  by  the  fair, 
candid,  and  full  explanation  of  his  honourable 
friend.  He  begged  it  to  be  at  once  understood, 
that  his  own  observations  had  been  merely  intended 
to  bear  a  Pickwickian  construction.     (Cheers.)" 

Here  the  entry  terminates,  as  we  have  no  doubt 
the  debate  did  also,  after  arriving  at  such  a  highly 
satisfactory  and  intelligible  point.  We  have  no 
official  statement  of  the  facts,  which  the  reader 
will  find  recorded  in  the  next  chapter,  but  they 
have  been  carefully  collated  from  letters  and  other 
MS.  authorities,  so  unquestionably  genuine,  as  to 
justify  their  narration  in  a  connected  form. 


20  POSTHUxMOUS  PAPERS  OF: 


CHAPTER  II. 


the  first  day  s  journey,  and  the  first  evex-- 
ing's  adventures;  with  their  consequences. 

That  punctual  servant  of  all  work,  the  sun,  had 
just  risen,  and  began  to  strike  a  lii^ht  on  the  mora- 
ing  of  the  thirteenth  of  May,  one  thousand  eight 
hundred  .and  twenty-seven,  when  Mr.  Sannuel 
Pickwick  burst  like  another  sun  from  his  slumbers.; 
threw  open  his  chamber  window,  and  looked  out 
upon  the  world  beneath.  Goswell  street  was  at 
his  feet,  Goswell  street  was  on  his  rigjit  hand ;  as 
far  as  tiie  eye  could  reach,  Goswell  street  extend- 
ed on  his  left;  and  the  opposite  side  of  Goswell 
street  was  over  the  way.  "  Such,"  thought  Mr. 
Pickwick,  "  are  the  narrow  views  of  those  philo- 
sophers who,  content  Vv'ith  oxamining  the  things 
that  lie  before  them,  look  not  to  the  truths  which 
are  hidden  beyond.  As  well  might  1  be  content 
to  gaze  on  Goswell  street  for  ever,  without  one  ef- 
fort to  penetrate  to  the  hidden  countries  which  on 
every  side  surround  it."  And  having  given  vent 
to  this  beautiful  reflection,  Mr.  Pickwick  proceed- 
ed to  put  himself  into  his  clothes;  and  his  clothes 
into  his  portmanteau.  Great  men  are  seldom 
over  scrupulous  in  the  arrangement  of  their  at- 
tire :  the  operation  of  shaving,  dressing,  and  cof- 
fee-imbibing, was  soon  performed  ;  and,  in  another 
hour,  Mr.  Pickwick,^  with  his  portmanteau  in  his 
hand,  his  telescope  in  his  great  coat  pockel,  and 
bis  note- book, in  his  vTaistcoat,  ready  for  the  re- 


THE  HCKWICK  CLUB.  21 

ceptlon  of  any  discoveries  worthy  of  being  noted 
down,  had  arrived  at  the  coach-stand  in  Saint 
Martin's-le-Grand. 

*'  Cab  !"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Here  you  are,  sir,"  shouted  a  strange  speci- 
men of  the  human  race,  in  a  sackcloth  coat,  and 
apron  of  the  same,  who,  with  a  brass  label  and 
number  round  his  neck,  looked  as  if  he  were  cata- 
logued in  some  collection  of  rarities.  This  was 
the  waterman.  "  Here  you  are,  sir.  Now,  then, 
fust  cab  !"  And  the  first  cab  having  been  fetched 
from  the  public  house,  where  he  had  been  smoking 
his  first  pipe,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  portmanteau 
were  thrown  into  the  vehicle. 

"Golden  Cross,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Only  a  bob's  vorth,  Tommy,"  cried  the  driver, 
sulkily,  for  the  information  of  his  friend  the  water- 
man, as  the  cab  drove  off. 

"  How  old  is  that  horse,  my  friend,  inquired  Mr. 
Pickwick,  rubbing  his  nose  with  the  shilling  he  had 
reserved  for  the  fare. 

"Forty-two,"  replied  the  driver,  eyeing  him 
askant. 

"What?"  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwnck, . laying  his 
hand  upon  his;  note-book.  The  driver  reiterated 
his  former  statement.  Mr.  Pickwick  looked  very 
hard  at  the  man's  face,  but  his  features  were  im- 
moveable, so  he  noted  down  the  fact  forthwith. 

"  And  how  long  do  you  keep  him  out  at  a  time  V 
inquiredi  Mr.  Pickwick,  searching  for  farther  in- 
formation. 

"Two  or  three  veeks,"  replied  the  man. 

"  Weeks!"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  in  astonishment— 
and  out  came  the  note-book  again. 

"  He  lives  at  Pentonwill  when  he's  at  home," 
observed  the  driver,  coolly ;  "  but  we  seldom  takes 
him  home^  on  account  of  his  veakaesso" 


22 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


"  On  account  of  his  weakness  ;"  reiterated  the 
perplexed  Mr.  Pickwick." 

'•  He  always  falls  down,  when  he's  took  out  o' 
the  cab,"  continued  the  driver,  "but  when  he's  in 
it,  we  bears  him  np  werry  tight,  and  takes  hini-  in 
werry  short,  so  as  he  can't  werry  well  fall  down, 
and  we've  got  a  pair  o'  precious  large  wheels  on ; 
so  w^hen  he  does  move,  they  run  after  him,  and  he 
must  go  on  ;  he  can't  help  it." 

Mr.  Pickwick  entered  every  word  of  this  state- 
ment in  his  note-book,  wdth  the  view  of  communi- 
cating it  to  the  club,  as  a  singular  instance  of  the 
tenacity  of  life  in  horses,  under  trying  circum- 
stances. The  entry  was  scarcely  completed  when 
they  reached  the  Golden  Cross.  Down  jumped 
the  driver,  and  out  got  Mr.  Pickwick.  Mr.  Tup- 
man,  Mr.  Snodgrass,  and  Mr.  Winkle,  who  had 
been  anxiously  waiting  the  arrival  of  their  illus- 
trious leader,  crowded  to  welcome  him. 

"Here's  your  fare,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  holding 
out  the  shilling  to  the  driver. 

What  was  the  learned  man's  astonishment,  when 
tliat  unaccountable  person  flung  the  money  on  the 
pavement,  and  requested  in  figurative  terms  to  be 
allowed  the  pleasure  of  fighting  him  (Mr.  Pick- 
wick,)  for  the  amount ! 

"You  are  mad,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass.. 

"Or  drunk,"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  Or  both,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,, 

"  Come  on,"  said  the  cab-driverj  spa-rring  avv+xy 
like  clock-work.     "Come  on,  all  four  on  you." 

"Here's  a  lark  1"  shouted  half  a  dozen  hackney 
coachmen.  "  Go  to  vork,  Sam,"  and  they  crowd- 
ed with  great  glee  round  the  party. 

"  What's  the  row,  Sam  ?"  inquired  one  gentle- 
rpan  in  black  calico  sleeves.. 

"Row!"  replied  the  cabman;, "  what  did.  he 
\v,ant  my  number,  fpr?^' 


THE  FICKWICK  CLUB.  QS 

*^I  didn't  want  your  number,"  said  the  astonish- 
ed Mr.  Pickwick, 

"  What  did  you  take  it  for,  then?''  inquired  the 
cabman. 

"  I  didn't  take  it,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  indignant- 
ly- 

"  Would  any  body  believe,"  continued  the  cab- 
driver,  appealing  to  the  crowd  ;  "  would  any  body 
believe  as  an  informer  'ud  go  about  in  a  man's 
cab,  not  only  takin'  down  his  number,  but  ev'ry 
word  he  says  into  the  bargain,"  (a  light  ilashecl 
upon  Mr.  Pickwick — ^it  was  the  note-book.) 

"Did  he,  though?"  inquired  another  cabman. 

"Yes,  did  he,"  replied  the  first;  "and  then  ar- 
ter  aggerawatin'  me  to  assault  him,  gets  three  wit- 
nesses here  to  prove  it.  But  I'll  give  it  him,  if  I've 
six  months  for  it.  Come  on,"  and  the  cabman 
dashed  his  hat  upon  the  ground,  with  a  reckless 
disregard  of  his  own  private  property,  and  knocked 
Mr.  Pickwick's  spectacles  off,  and  followed  up  the 
attack  with  a  blow  on  Mr.  Pickwick's  nose,  and 
another  on  Mr.  Pickwick's  chest,  and  a  third  in 
Mr.  Snodgross's  eye,  and  a  fourth,' by  way  of  va- 
riety, in  Mr.  Tupman's  waistcoat,  and  then  danced 
into  tlie  road,  and  tlien  back  again  to  the  pavement, 
and  finally  dashed  the  whole  temporary  supply  of 
breath  out  of  Mr.  Winkle's  body ;  and  all  in  half 
a  dozen  seconds. 

"Where's  an  officer,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass.^ 

"  Put  'em  under  the  pump,"  suggested  a  hot  pie- 
man. 

"  You  shall  smart  for  this,"  gasped  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

"  Informers,"  shouted  the  crowd. 

"Come  on,"  cried  , the  cabman,  who  had  been 
sparring  without  cessation  the  whole  time. 

The  mob  had  hitherto  been  passive  spectators  of 
the  scene,  but  as  the  intelligence  of  the  Pickwick- 


24  'POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

ians  being  inrormers  was  spread  among  them, 
they  began  to  canvffss  with  considerable  vivacity 
the  propriety  of  enforcing  the  healed  pastry  ven- 
der's proposition:  and  there  is  no  saying  what 
acts  of  personal  aggression  they  might  have  com- 
mitted, had  not  theliffray  been  unexpectedly  ter- 
minated by  the  interposition  of  a  new  comer. 

"  What's  the  fun  t"  said  a  rather  tall  thin  young 
man,  in  a  green  coat,  emerging  suddenly  from  the 
coach-yard. 

*'  Informers  !"  shouted  the  crowd  again. 
"  We  are  not,"  roared  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  a  tone 
which,  to  any  dispassionate  listener,  carried  con- 
viction with  it. 

"  Ain't  you  though  ;  ain't  you  '("  said  the  young 
man,  appealing  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  making  his 
way  through  the  crowd,  by  the  infallible  process 
of  elbowing  the  countenances  of  its  component 
members. 

That  learned  man,  in  a  few  hurried  words,  ex- 
plained the  real  state  of  the  case. 

"  Come  along  then,"  said  he  of  the  green  coat, 
higging  Mr.  Pickwick  after  him  by  main  force, 
and  talking  the  whole  way.  *^  Here,  No.  924,  tuke 
your  fare,  and  take  yourself  ofF— respectable  gen- 
tleman— know  him  well — none  of  your  nonsense — 
this  way,  sir — where's  your  friends? — all  a  mis- 
take, I  see — never  mind — accidents  will  happen 
in  best  regulated  families — never  say  die — down 
upon  your  luck — pull  him  up — put  that  in  his  pipe 
— like  the  flavour — great  rascals."  And  with 
a  lengthened  string  of  similar  broken  sentences, 
delivered  with  extraordinary  volubility,  the  stran- 
ger led  the  way  to  the  traveller's  waiting  room, 
whither  he  was  closely  followed  by  Mr.  Pickwick 
and  his  disciples. 

"  Here,  waiter,"  shouted  the  stranger,  ringii^ 
^he  bell  with  tremendous '-violence, '^glasses  rotirffi 


THE  PICKWIGK  CLUB.  25 

— brandy  and  water,  hot  and  strong,  and  sv*'eet, 
and  plenty — eye  damaged,  sir?  Waiter;  raw 
beef-steak  for  the  gentleman's  eye— nothing  like 
raw  beef-steak  for  a  bruise,  sir ;  cold  lamp-post 
very  good,  but  lamp-post  inconvenient — very  odd 
standing  in  the  open  street  half  an  hour,  with 
your  eye  against  a  lamp-post — eh — very  good — 
ha !  ha  !"  And  the  stranger,  without  stopping  to 
take  breath,  swallowed  at  a  draught  full  half  a 
pint  of  the  reeking  brandy  and  water,  and  flung 
himself  into  a  chair  with  as  much  ease  as  if  no- 
thing uncommon  had  occurred. 

Whilst  his  three  companions  were  busily  en- 
gaged in  proffering  their  thanks  to  their  new  ac- 
quaintance, Mr.  Pickwick  had  leisure  to  examine 
his  costume  and  appearance. 

He  was  about  the  middle  height;  but  the  thin- 
ness of  his  body,  and  the  length  of  his  legs,  gave 
him  the  appearance  of  being  much  taller.  The 
green  coat  had  been  a  smart  dress  garment  iii 
the  days  of  swallow-tails,  but  had  evidently  in 
those  times  adorned  a  much  shorter  man  than  the 
stranger,  for  the  soiled  and  faded  sleeves  scarcely 
reached  to  his  wrists.  It  was  buttoned  closely  up 
to  his  chin,  at  the  imminent  hazard  of  splitting 
the  back ;  and  an  old  stock,  without  a  vestige  of 
shirt  collar,  ornamented  his  neck.  His  scanty 
black  trousers  displayed  here  and  there  those  shiny 
patches  which  bespeak  long  service,  and  were 
strapped  very  tightly  over  a  pair  of  patched  and 
mended  shoes,  as  if  to  conceal  the  dirty  white 
stockinf]js,  which  were,  nevertheless,  distinctly  visi- 
ble. His  long  black  hair  escaped  in  negligent 
waves  from  beneath  each  side  of  his  old  pinched 
up  hat;  and  glimpses  of  his  bare  wrist  might  be 
observed  between  the  tops  of  his  gloves,  and  the 
cuffs  of  his  coat  sleeves.  His  face  was  thin  and 
haggard;  but  an  indescribable  air  of  jaunty  irnpu- 
3 


26  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

dence  and  perfect  self-possession  pervaded  the 
whole  man. 

Such  was  the  individual,  on  whom  Mr.  Pick- 
wick gazed  through  his  spectacles,  (whicli  he  had 
fortunately  recovered,)  and  to  whom  he  proceed- 
ed, when  his  friends  had  exhausted  themselves,  to 
return,  in  chosen  terms,  his  warmest  thanks  for  his 
recent  assistance. 

*' Never  mind,"  said  the  stranger,  cutting  the 
address  very  short,  '^  said  enough — no  more; 
smart  chap,  that  cabman  ;  handled  his  fives  well : 
but  if  I'd  been  your  friend  in  the  green  jemmy, 
I'd  punch  his  head — yes,  I  would ;  pig's  whisper — 
pieman  too — no  gammon." 

This  coherent  speech  was  interrupted  by  the 
entrance  of  the  Rochester  coachman,  to  announce 
that  "  The  Commodore  "  was  on  the  point  of  start- 
ing. 

"Commodore!"  said  the  stranger,  starting  up, 
"  my  coach — place  booked — one  outside  ;  leave 
you  to  pay  for  the  brandy  and  water ;  want 
change  for  a  five;  bad  silver;  Brummagem  but- 
tons— won't  do — no  go,  eh?'  and  he  shook  his 
head  most  knowingly. 

Now  it  so  happened  that  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his 
three  companions  had  resolved  to  make  Roches- 
ter their  first  halting  place  too;  and  having  inti- 
mated to  their  new-found  acquaintance  that  they 
were  journeying  to  the  same  city,  they  agreed  to 
occupy  the  seat  at  the  back  of  the  coach,  where 
they  could  all  sit  together. 

"  Up  with  you,"  said  the  stranger,  assisting  Mr. 
Pickwick  on  to  the  roof  with  so  much  precipita- 
tion, as  to  impair  the  gravity  of  that  gentleman's 
deportment  very  materially. 

"  Any  luggage,  sir?"  inquired  the  coachman. 

"  Who,  I  ?  Brown  paper  parcel  here,  that's  all, 
other  luggage  gone  by  water ;  packing-cases,  nail- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  27 

ed  up ;  big  as  houses ;  heavy,  heavy,  very  hea- 
vy," replied  the  stranger,  as  he  forced  into  his 
pocket  as  much  as  he  could  of  the  brown  paper 
parcel,  which  presented  most  suspicious  indica- 
tions of  containing  one  shirt  and  a  handkerchief. 

"Heads,  heads,  take  care  of  your  heads,"  cried 
the  loquacious  stranger,  as  they  came  out  under 
the  low  archway,  whicl>in  those  days,  formed  the 
entrance  to  the  coach-yard.  "  Terrible  place — - 
dangerous  work ;  other  day,  five  children — mother 
• — tall  lady,  eating  sandwiches — forgot  the  arch — ■ 
crash,  knock — children  look  round,  mother's  head 
off' — sandwich  in  her  hand — no  mouth  to  put  it 
in — head  of  a  family  off*;  shocking,  shocking. 
Looking  at  Whitehall,  sir — fine  place — little  win- 
dow— somebody  else's  head  off  there,  eh,  sir?  he 
didn't  keep  a  sharp  look-out  enough  either — eh, 
sir,  eh  V 

"  I  was  ruminating,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  ''  on 
the  strange  mutability  of  human  affairs." 

"  Ah !  I  see ;  in  at  the  palace  door  one  day,  out 
at  the  window  the  next.     Philosopher,  sir?' 

"  An  observer  of  human  uature,  sir,"  said  Mr 
Pickwick. 

"Ah,  so  am  I.  Most  people  are  when  they've 
httle  to  do  and  less  to  get.     Poet,  sir  ?" 

"  My  friend  Mr.  Snodgrass  has  a  strong  poetic 
turn,"  said  JMr.  Pickwick. 

"  So  have  I,"  said  the  stranger.  "  Epic  poem, 
ten  thousand  lines— revolution  of  July  ;  composed 
it  on  the  spot ;  Mars  by  day,  Apollo  by  night — - 
bang  the  field-piece,  twang  the  lyre." 

"You  were  present  at  that  glorious  scene,  sir?" 
said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"  Present !  think  I  was ;  fired  a  musket — fired 
with  an  idea — rushed  into  wine  shop — wrote  it 
down — back  again — whiz,  bang;  another  idea — 
wine  shop  again — pen  and  ink — back  again — cut. 


28  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OP      • 

and  slash— noble  lime,  sir.     Sportsman,  sir?"  ab- 
ruptly turning  to  Mr.  Winkle. 

"A  little,  sir,"  replied  that  gentleman. 

"Fine  pursuit,  sir;  fine  pursuit.     Dogs,  sir?" 

"Not  just  now,"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"Ah!  you  should  keep  dogs;  fine  animals — sa- 
gacious creatures — dog  of  my  own  once — Pointer 
— surprising  instinct;  out  shooting  one  day — en- 
tering enclosure — whistled — dog  stopped — whistled 
again — Ponto — no  go:  stock  still — called  him — 
Ponto,  Ponto;  wouldn't  move — dog  transfixed, 
staring  at  a  board;  looked  up,  saw  an  inscription, 
*  Gamekeeper  has  orders  to  shoot  all  dogs  found  in 
this  enclosure  ;'  wouldn't  pass  it — wonderful  dog — 
valuable  dog  that,  very." 

"Singular  circumstance  that,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. "  Will  you  allow  me  to  make  a  note  of 
it?"* 

"Certainly,  sir,  certainly;  hundred  more  anec- 
dotes of  the  same  animal.  Fine  girl,  sir,"  (to  Mr. 
Tracy  Tupman,  who  had  been  bestowing  sundry 
anti-Pickwickian  glances  on  a  young  lady  by  the 
road-side.) 

"Very!"  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

"English  girls  not  so  fine  as  Spanish;  noble 
creatures — ^jet  hair — black  eyes — lovely  forms — ■ 
sweet  creatures — beautiful." 

"You  have  been  in  Spain,  sir?"  said  Mr.  Tracy 
Tupman. 

"  Lived  there — ages.'' 

"Many  conquests,  sir?"  inquired  Mr.  Tupman. 

"Conquests!     Thousands.     Don    Bolaro    Fizz- 

*  Althoug'h  we  find  this  circumstance  recorded  as  a  "  singu- 
lar" one,  in  Mr.  Pickwick's  note-book,  we  cannot  refrain  from 
humbly  expressing  our  dissent  from  that  learned  authority. 
The  strang-cr's  anecdote  is  not  one  quarter  so  wonderful  as 
some  of  Mr.  Jesse's  "Gleanings."  Ponto  sinks  into  utter  in- 
significance before  the  dogs  whose  actions  he  records.—En. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  29 

gig — Grandee — only  daughter,  Donna  Christina 
— splendid  creature — loved  me  to  distraction — - 
jealous  father — high-souled  daughter — handsome 
Englishman — Donna  Christina  in  despair — prussic 
acid — stomach  pump  in  my  portmanteau — opera- 
tion performed — old  Bolaro  in  ecstasies — consent 
to  our  union — ^join  handsj  and  floods  of  tears;  ro- 
mantic story,  very.'^ 

"  Is  the  lady  in  England  now,  sir?"  inquired  Mr 
Tupman,  on  whom  the  description  of  her  charms 
had  produced  a  powerful  impression. 

"  Dead,  sir,  dead,"  said  the  stranger,  applying 
to  his  right  eye  the  brief  remnant  of  a  very  old 
cambric  handkerchief.  "Never  recovered  the 
stomach  pump ;  undermined  constitution ;  fell  a 
victim." 

"  And  her  father  ?"  inquired  the  poetic  Snod- 
grass. 

"  Remorse  and  misery,"  replied  the  stranger. 
"  Sudden  disappearance — talk  of  the  whole  city  ; 
search  made  every  where,  without  success ;  pub- 
lie  fountain  in  the  great  square  suddenly  ceased 
playing — weeks  elapsed,  still  a  stoppage — work- 
men employed  to  clean  it — water  drawn  off — fa- 
ther-in-law discovered  sticking  head  first  in  the 
main  pipe,  with  a  full  confession  in  his  right  boot 
— took  him  out,  and  the  fountain  played  away 
agaiii,  as  well  as  even^' 

"  Will  you  allow  me  to  note  that  little  romance 
down,  sir?"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  deeply  affected. 

"Certainly,  sir,  certainly;  fifty  more,  if  you 
like  to  hear  'em :  strange  life  mine — rather  cu- 
rious history — not  extraordinary^  but  singular." 

In  this  strain,  with  an  occasional  glass  of  ale, 
by  way  of  parenthesis,  when  the  coach  changed 
horses,  did  the  stranger  proceed,  until  they  reached. 
Rochester  bridge,  by  which  time  the  note-books, 
both  of  JMr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Snodgrass,  were 
3* 


30  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

completely  filled  with  selections  from  his  adven- 
tures. 

"Magnificent  ruin;"  said  Mr.  Agustiis  Snod- 
grass,  with  all  the  poetic  fervour  that  distinguish- 
ed him  when  they  came  in  sight  of  the  fine  old 
castle. 

"  What  a  study  for  an  antiquarian,"  were  the 
very  words  which  fell  from  Mr.  Pickwick's  rnouth, 
as  he  applied  his  tolescope  to  his  eye. 

'*  Ah !  fine  place,"  said  the  stranger,  "  glorious 

pile frowning  walls tottering  arches dark 

nooks — crunibling  staircases;  old  cathedral  too — 
earthy  smell — pilgrims'  feet  worn  away  the  old 
steps — little  Saxon  doors — confessionals  like  money- 
takers'  boxes  at  theatres — queer  customers,  those 
monks — popes,  and  lord  treasurers,  and  all  sorts  of 
old  fellows,  with  great  red  faces,  and  broken  noses, 
turning  up  every  day — ^buffjerkinstoo — matchlocks 
—Sarcophagus — fine  place — old  legends  too — 
strange  stories — capital ;"  and  the  stranger  con- 
tinued to  soliloquize  until  they  reached  the  Bull 
Inn,  in  the  high  street,  where  the  coach  stopped. 

"Do  you  remain  here,  sir?"  inquired  Mr.  Na- 
thaniel Winkle. 

*' Here — not  I;  but  you'd  better:  good  house — 
nice  beds — Wright's,  next  house, — dear — very 
dear — half  a  crown  in  the  bill,  if  you  look  at  the 
waiter — charge  jou  more  if  you  dine  at  a  friend's 
than  they  would  if  you  dined  in  the  coffee-room  ; 
rum  fellows — very." 

Mr.  Winkle  turned  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  mur- 
mured a  few  words;  a  whisper  from  Mr.  Pickwick 
to  Mr.  Snodgrass,  from  Mr.  Snodgrass  to  Mr.  Tup- 
man,  and  nods  of  assent  were  exchanged.  Mr. 
Pickwick  addressed  the  stranger. 

"You  rendered  us  a  very  important  service  this 
morning,  sir,"  said  he ;  "  w'ilj  vou  allow  us  to  offer 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  31 

a  slight  mark  of  our  gratitude  by  begging  the  fa- 
vour of  your  company  at  dinner?" 

"  Great  pleasure — not  presume  to  dictate,  but 
broiled  fowl  and  mushroms — capital  thing  !  What 
time?' 

"  Let  me  see,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  referring 
to  his  watch,  "  it  is  now  nearly  three.  Shall  we 
say  five?' 

"  Suit  me  excellently,"  said  the  stranger,  "  five 
precisely— till  then — care  of  yourselves ;"  and  lift- 
ing the  pinched  up  hat  a  few  inches  from  his  head, 
ajid  carelessly  replacing  it  very  much  on  one  side, 
the  stranger,  with  half  the  brown  paper  parcel 
sticking  out  of  his  pocket,  walked  briskly  up  the 
yard,  and  turned  into  the  high  street. 

"  Evidently  a  traveller  in  many  countries,  and 
a  close  observer  of  men  and  things,'^  said  Mr, 
Pickwicko 

"  I  should  like  to  see  his  poem,"  said  Mr.  Snod- 
grass, 

"  I  should  like  to  have  seen  that  dog,"  said  Mr. 
Winkle. 

Mr.  Tupman  said  nothing;  but  he  thought  of 
Donna  Christina,  the  stomach  pump,  and  the  foun- 
tain ;  and  his  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

A  private  sitting-room  having  been  engaged,  bed-, 
rooms  inspected,  and  dinner  ordered,  the  party 
walked  out  to  view  the  city,  and  adjoining  neigh-, 
bourhood. 

We  do  not  find,  from  a  careful  perusal  of  Mr. 
Pickwick's  notes  on  the  four  towns,  Stroud,  Ro- 
chester, Chatham,  and  Brompton,  that  his  impres- 
sions of  their  appearance  ditfer  in  any  material  point, 
from  those  of  other  travellers  who  have  gone  over 
the  sanie  ground.  His  general  description  is  easily 
abridged. 

"The  principal  productions  of  these  towns,'*  says 
Mr.  Pickwick,  "appear  to  be  soldiers,  sailors,  Jews, 


22  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

chalk,  shrimps,  officers,  and  dock-yard  men.  The 
commodities  t^hiefly  exposed  for  sale  in  the  public 
streets,  are  marine  stores,  hard-bake,  apples,  flat- 
fish and  oysters.  The  streets  present  a  lively  and 
animated  appearance,  occasioned  chiefiy  by  the 
conviviality  of  the  military.  It  is  truly  delightful 
to  a  philanthropic  mind,  to  see  these  gallant  men, 
staggering  along  under  the  influence  of  an  over- 
flow, both  of  animal  and  ardent  spirits ;  more  espe- 
cially when  we  remember  that  the  following  them 
about,  and  jesting  with  them,  affords  a  cheap  and 
innocent  amusement  for  the  boy  population.  No- 
thing (adds  Mr.  Pickwick)  can  exceed  their  good 
humour.  It  was  but  the  day  before  my  arrival,  that 
one  of  them  had  been  most  grossly  insulted  in  the 
house  of  a  publican.  The  bar-maid  had  positively 
refused  to  draw  him  any  more  liquor;  in  return 
for  which,  he  had  (merely  in  playfulness)  drawn 
his  bayonet,  and  wounded  the  girl  in  the  shoulder. 
And  yet  this  fine  fellow  was  the  very  first  to  go 
down  to  the  house  next  morning,  and  express  his 
readiness  to  overlook  the  matter,  and  forget  what 
had  occurred  ! 

*'  The  consumption  of  tobacco  in  these  towns 
(continues  Mr.  Pickwick)  must  be  very  great:  and 
the  smell  which  pervades  the  streets  must  be  ex- 
ceedingly delicious  to  those  who  are  extremely 
fond  of  smoking.  A  superficial  traveller  might 
object  to  the  dirt  w^hich  is  their  leading,  charac- 
teristic ;  but  to  those  who  view  it  as  an  indication 
of  traflic,  and  commercial  prosperity,  it  is  truly 
gratifying." 

Punctual  to  five  o'clock,  came  the  stranger,  and 
shortly  afterwards  the  dinner.  He  had  divested 
himself  of  his  brown  paper  parcel,  but  had  made 
no  alteration  in  his  attire;  and  was,  if  possible, 
more  loquacious  than  ever. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  33 

"  What's  that  V  he  iiK^uired,  as  the  waiter  re- 
moved one  of  the  covers. 

"  Soles,  sh\" 

"  Soles— ah  I— capital  fish — all  come  from  Lon- 
don—stage-coach proprietors  get  up  political  din- 
ners— carnage  of  soles — dozens  of  baskets — cun- 
ning fellows.     Glass  of  wine,  sir?' 

*'  With  pleasure,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick— and  the 
stranger  took  wine  ;  first  with  him,  and  then  with 
Mr.  Snodgrass,  and  then  with  Mr.  Tupman,  and 
then  with  Mr.  Winkle,  and  then  with  the  whole 
party  together,  almost  as  rapidly  as  he  talked. 

"  Strange  mess  on  the  staircase,  waiter,"  said 
the  stranger,  ''  forms  going  up — carpenters  coming 
down — lamps,  glasses,  harps.  What's  going  for- 
ward." 

"  Ball,  sir,"  said  the  waiter. 

"  Assembly— eh  T" 

"  No,  sir,  not  assembly,  sir.  Ball  for  the  benefit 
of  a  charity,  sir." 

"  Many  fine  women  in  this  town,  do  you  know, 
sir?"  inquired  Mr.  Tupman,  with  great  interest. 

'^Splendid — capital.  Kent,  sir — every  body 
knows  Kent — apples,  cherries,  hops,  and  women. 
Glass  of  wine,  sir?" 

"  With  great  pleasure,"  replied  Mr.  TupmaUo 
The  stranger  filled,  and  emptied. 

"  1  should  very  much  like  to  go,"  said  Mr.  Tup- 
man, resuming  the  subject  of  the  ball,  "  very 
much." 

"  Tickets  at  the  ball,  sir,"  interposed  the  waiter, 
"  half-a-guinea  each,  sir." 

Mr.  Tupman  again  expressed  an  earnest  wish 
to  be  present  at  the  festivity;  but  meeting  with 
no  response  in  the  darkened  eye  of  Mr.  Snod- 
grass, or  the  abstracted  gaze  of  Mr.  Pickwick, 
he  applied  himself  with  great  interest  to  the  port 
wine  and  dessert  which   had  just  been  placed  on 


34  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

the  table.  The  waiter  withdrew,  and  the  party 
were  left  to  enjoy  the  cosy  couple  of  hours  suc- 
ceeding dinner. 

"  Beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  the  stranger,  "bot- 
tle stands — pass  it  round — way  of  the  sun — through 
the  button-hole — no  heeltaps,"  and  he  emptied  his 
glass,  which  he  had  filled  about  two  minutes  be- 
fore ;  and  poure(^  out  another,  with  the  air  of  a  man 
who  was  used  to  it. 

The  wine  was  passed,  and  a  fresh  supply  ordered. 
The  visiter  talked,  the  Pickwickians  listened.  Mr. 
Tupman  felt  every  moment  more  disposed  for  the 
ball.  Mr.  Pickwick's  countenance  glowed  with 
an  expression  of  universal  philanthropj^ :  and  INIr. 
Winkle,  and  Mr.  Snodgrass,  fell  fast  asleep. 

"  They're  beginning  upstairs,"  said  the  stranger, 
"  hear  the  company — fiddles  tuning — now  the  harp 
—there  they  go."  The  various  sounds  which  found 
their  way  dov\'n  stairs,  announced  the  commence- 
ment of  the  first  quadrille. 

"  How  I  should  like  to  go,"  said  Mr.  Tupman, 
again. 

"  So  should  I,"  said  the  stranger, — "  confounded 
luggage — heavy  smacks — nothing  to  go  in — odd, 
an't  it?" 

Now  general  benevolence  was  one  of  the  lead- 
ing features  of  the  Pickwickian  theory,  and  no  one 
was  more  remarkable  for  the  zealous  manner  in 
which  he  observed  so  noble  a  principle,  than  Mr. 
Tracy  Tupman.  The  number  of  instances,  re- 
corded on  the  Transactions  of  the  Society,  in 
which  that  excellent  man  referred  objects  of  cha- 
rity to  the  houses  of  other  members  for  left-off 
garments,  or  pecuniary  relief,  is  almost  incredible. 

*'  I  should  be  very  happy  to  lend  you  a  change 
of  apparel  for  the  purpose,"  said  Mr.  Tracy  Tup- 
man, "  but  you  are  rather  slim,  and  I  am — " 

"Rather  fat — grown  up  Bacchus — cut  the  leaves 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  35 

—dismounted  from  the  tub,  and  adopted  kersey, 
eh? — not  doubled  distilled,  but  doubled  milled — ha. ! 
ha ! — pass  the  wine." 

Whether  Mr.  Tupman  was  sc^mewhat  indignant 
at  the  peremptory  tone  in  which  he  w^as  desired  to 
pass  the  wine  which  the  stranger  passed  so  quickly 
away;  or  whether  he  felt  very  pVoperly  scandal- 
ized, at  an  influential  member  of  the  Pickwick 
club  being  ignominiously  compared  to  a  dismount- 
ed Bacchus,  is  a  fact  not  yet  completely  ascer- 
tained. He  passed  the  w^ine,  coughed  twice,  and 
looked  at  the  stranger  for  several  seconds  with  a 
stern  intensity ;  as  that  individual,  however,  ap- 
peared perfectly  collected,  and  quite  calm  under 
his  searching  glance,  he  gradually  relaxed,  and 
reverted  to  the  subject  of  the  balk 

"  I  was  about  to  observe,  sir,"  he  said,  ^^that 
though  my  apparel  would  be  too  large,  a  suit  of 
my  friend  Mr.  Winkle's  would,  perhaps,  fit  you 
better." 

The  stranger  took  Mr.  Winkle's  measure  with 
his  eye;  and  that  feature  glistened  with  satisfac- 
tion as  he  said — "  Just  the  thing  !" 

Mr.  Tupman  looked  round  him.  The  wine 
which  had  exerted  its  somniferous  influence  over 
Mr.  Snodgrass,  and  Mr.  Winkle,  had  stolen  upon 
the  senses  of  Mr.  Pickwick.  That  gentleman  had 
gradually  passed  through  the  various  stages  which 
precede  the  lethargy  produced  by  dinner,  and  its 
consequences.  He  had  undergone  the  ordinary 
transition  from  the  height  of  conviviality,  to  the 
depth  of  misery,  and  from  the  depth  of  misery,  to 
the  height  of  conviviality.  Like  a  gas  lamp  in 
the  street,  with  the  wine  in  the  pipe,  he  had  exhi- 
bited for  a  moment,  an  unnatural  brilliancy;  then 
sunk  so  low  as  to  be  scarcely  discernible:  after  a 
short  interval  he  had  burst  out  again  to  enlighten 
for  a  moment,  then  flickered  with  an  uncertain, 


36  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

staggering  sort  of  light,  then  gone  out  altogether. 
His  head  was  sunk  upon  his  bosonn ;  and  perpetual 
snoring,  with  a  partial  choke,  occasionally,  were 
the  only  audible  indications  of  the  great  man's 
presence. 

The  temptation  to  be  present  at  the  ball,  and  to 
form  his  first  impressions  of  the  beauty  of  the 
Kentish  ladies,  was  strong  upon  Mr.  Tupman. 
The  temptation  to  take  the  stranger  with  him,  was 
equally  great.  He  was  wholly  unacquainted  with 
the  place  and  its  inhabitants;  and  the  stranger 
seemed  to  possess  as  great  a  knowledge  of  both, 
as  if  he  had  lived  there  from  his  infancy.  Mr. 
Winkle  was  asleep,  and  Mr.  Tupman  had  had 
sufficient  experience  in  such  matters  to  know,  that 
the  moment  he  awoke,  he  would,  in  the  ordinary 
course  of  nature,  roll  heavily  to  bed.  He  was  un- 
decided. "Fill  your  glass,  and  pass  the  wine/' 
said  the  indefatigable  visiter. 

Mr.  Tupman  did  as  he  was  requested ;  and  the 
additional  stimulus  of  the  last  glass  settled  his  de- 
termination. 

"  Winkle's  bed-room  is  inside  of  mine,"  said  Mr. 
Tupman ;  "  I  couldn't  make  him  understand  what 
I  wanted,  if  I  woke  him  now,  but  1  know  he  has  a 
dress  suit,  in  a  carpet  bag;  and  supposing  you 
Avore  it  to  the  ball,  and  took  it  off  when  you  re- 
turned, I  could  replace  it  without  troubling  him  at 
all  about  the  matter." 

-^"Capital,"  said  the  stranger,  ^'famous  plan — 
very  odd  situation — fourteen  coats  in  the  pack- 
ing cases  and  obliged  to  wear  another  man's — 
very  good  notion  that — very." 

"  We  must  purchase  our  ticket,"  said  Mr.  Tup- 
man. 

"Not  worth  while  splitting  a  guinea,"  said  the 
stranger,  "  toss  who  shall  pay  for  both — I  call ; 
you  spin— first  time — woman — woman — bewitch- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  37 

ing  woman,"  and  down  came  the  sovereign  with 
the  Dragon  (called  by  courtesy  a  woman)  upper- 
most. 

Mr.  Tupman  rang  the  bell,  purchased  the  tick- 
ets, and  ordered  chamber-candlesticks.  In  another 
quarter  of  an  hour,  the  stranger  was  completely 
arrayed  in  a  full  suit  of  Mr.  Nathaniel  Winkle's.'* 

*'  It's  a  new  coat,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  as  the 
stranger  surveyed  himself  with  great  complacency 
in  a  cheval  glass.  "The  first  that's  been  made 
with  our  club  button," — and  he  called  his  com- 
panion's attention  to  the  large  gilt  button  which 
displayed  a  bust  of  Mr.  Pickwick  in  the  centre, 
and  the  letters  "  P.  C."  on  either  side. 

"P.  C."  said  the  stranger, — "Queer  set  out — 
old  fellow's  likeness,  and  *  P.  C— What  does  P.  C. 
stand  for — peculiar  coat,  ehl"  Mr.  Tupman,  with 
rising  indignation,  and  great  importance,  explained 
the  mystic  device. 

"Rather  short  in  the  waist,  a'n'fc  it?"  said  the 
stranger,  screwing  himself  round  to  catch  a  glimpse 
in  the  glass  of  the  waist  buttons  which  were  half 
way  up  his  back.  '^Like  a  general  postman's 
coat — queer  coats  those — made  by  contract — no 
measuring — mysterious  dispensations  of  Provi- 
dence— all  the  short  men  get  long  coats — all  the 
long  men  short  'ones."  Running  on  in  this  way, 
Mr.  Tupman's  new  companion  adjusted  his  dress, 
or  rather  the  dress  of  Mr.  Winkle ;  and,  accompa- 
nied by  Mr.  Tupman,  ascended  the  staircase  lead- 
ing to  the  ball  room. 

"What  names,  sir?'  said  the  man  at  the  door. 
Mr.  Tracy  Tupman  was  stepping  forward  to  an- 
nounce his  own  titles,  when  the  stranger  prevented 
him. 

"  No  names  at  all,"-^and  then  he  whispered  Mr. 
Tupman,  "Names  won't  do — not  known — very 
good  names  in  their  way,  but  not  great  ones — ca- 


38  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

pital  names  for  a  small  party,  but  won't  make  an 
impression  in  public  assemblies — iticog.  the  thing — 
Gentlemen  from  London — distinguished  foreigners 
-r—any  thing."  The  door  was  thrown  open ;  and 
Mr.  Tracy  Tupman,  and  the  stranger,  entered  the 
ball  room. 

It  was  a  long  room,  with  crimson-covered  bench- 
es, and  wax  candles  in  glass  chandeliers.  The 
musicians  were  securely  confined  in  an  elevated 
den,  and  quadrilles  were  being  s^-stematically  got 
through  by  two  or  three  sets  of  dancers.  Two 
card-tables  were  made  up  in  the  adjoining  card- 
room,  and  two  pair  of  old  ladies,  and  a  correspond- 
ing number  of  stout  gentlemen,  were  executing 
whist  therein. 

The  finale  concluded,  the  dancers  promenaded 
the  room,  and  Mr.  Tupman,  and  his  companion 
stationed  themselves  in  a  corner,  to  observe  the 
company. 

^'  Charming  woman,"  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

^'  Wait  a  minute,"  said  the  stranger,  "  fun  pre- 
sently— nobs  notcomeyet — queer  place— dock-yard 
people  of  upper  rank  don't  know^  dock-yard  people 
of  lower  rank — dock-yard  people  of  lower  rank 
don't  know  small  gentry — small  gentry  don't  know 
trades-people — Commissioner  don't  know  anv 
body." 

"  Who's  that  little  boy  with  the  light  hair  and 
pink  eyes,  in  a  fancy  dress?'  inquired  Mr.  Tup- 
man. 

"Hush,  pray — pink  eyes — fancy  dress — little  boy 
— nonsense — ^Ensign  97th. — Honourable  Wilmot 
Snipe — great  family — Snipes — very." 

*'  Sir  Thomas  Clubber,  Lady  Clubber,  and  the 
Miss  Clubbers  !"  shouted  the  man  at  the  door  in  a 
stentorian  voice.  A  great  sensation  was  created 
throughout  the  room,  by  the  entrance  of  a  tall  gen- 
tleman in  a  blue  coat  and  bright  buttons,  a  large 
lady  in  blue  satin,  and    two  young   ladies  on    a 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  39 

similar  scale,  in  fashionably-made  dresses  of  the 
same  hue. 

''  Commissioner — head  of  the  yard — great  man 
— remarkably  great  man,"  whispered  the  stranger 
in  Mr.  Tupman's  ear,  as  the  charitable  committee 
ushered  Sir  Thomas  Clubber  and  family  to  the  top 
of  the  room.  The  Honourable  Wilmot  Snipe,  and 
other  distinguished  gentlemen  crowded  to  render 
homage  to  the  Miss  Clubbers;  and  Sir  Thomas 
Clubber  stood  bolt  upright,  and  looked  majesti- 
cally over  his  black  neckerchief  at  the  assembled 
company. 

"  Mr.  Smithie,  Mrs.  Smithie,  and  the  Misses 
Smithie,"  were  the  next  announcement. 

"What's  Mr.  Smithie,"  inquired  Mr.  Tracy 
Tupman. 

*'  Something  in  the  yard,"  replied  the  stranger. 
Mr.  Smithie  bowed  deferentially  to  Sir  Thomas 
Clubber,-  and  Sir  Thomas  Ci«bber  acknowledged 
the  salute  with  conscious  condescension.  Lady 
Clubber  took  a  telescope  view  of  Mrs.  Smithie  and 
family,  through  her  eye-glass,  and  Mrs.  Smithie, 
stared  in  her  turn,  at  Mrs.  Somebody  else,  whose 
husband  was  not  in  the  dock-yard  at  all. 

"Colonel  Bulder,  Mrs.  Colonel  Bulder,  and  Miss 
Bulder,"  were  the  next  arrivals. 

"  Head  of  the  garrison,"  said  the  stranger,  in 
reply  to  Mr.  Tupman's  inquiring  look. 

Miss  Bulder  was  warmly  welcomed  by  the  Miss 
Clubbers ;  the  greeting  between  Mrs.  Colonel  Bul- 
der, and  Lady  Clubber,  was  of  the  most  affection- 
ate description ;  Colonel  Bulder  and  Sir  Thomas 
Clubber  exchanged  snuff-boxes,  and  looked  very 
much  like  a  pair  of  Alexander  Selkirks; — "  mon- 
archs  of  all  they  surveyed." 

While  the  aristocracy  of  the  place — the  Bulders, 
and  Clubbers,  and  Snipes — were  thus  preserving, 
their  dignity  at  the  upper  end  of  the  rooni,  the 


40  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

Other  classes  of  society  were  imitating  their  exam- 
ple in  other  parts  of  it.  The  less  aristocratic  offi- 
cers of  the  97lh  devoted  themselves  to  the  families 
of  the  less  important  functionaries  from  the  dock- 
yard. The  solicitors'  wives,  and  the  wine  mer- 
chant's wife,  headed  another  grade,  (the  brewer's 
wife  visited  the  Bulders:)  and  Mrs,  Tomlinson,  the 
post-office  keeper,  seemed  by  mutual  consent  to 
have  been  chosen  the  leader  of  the  trade  party. 

One  of  the  most  popular  personages,  in  his  own 
circle,  present,  was  a  little  fat  man,  with  a  ring  of 
upright  black  hair  round  his  head,  and  an  exten- 
sive bald  plain  on  the  top  of  it — Doctor  Slammer,, 
surgeon  to  the  97th.  The  doctor  took  snuff  with 
every  body,  chatted  with  every  body,  laughed, 
danced,  made  jokes,  played  whist,  did  every  thing, 
and  was  every  where.  To  these  pursuits,  multifa- 
rious as  they  were,  the  little  doctor  added  a  more 
important  one  than  any — he  was  indefatigable  ia 
paying  the  most  unremitting  and  devoted  attention 
to  a  little  old  widow,  whose  rich  dress  and  profu- 
sion of  ornament  bespoke  her  a  most  desirable  ad- 
dition to  a  limited  income. 

Upon  the  doctor,  and  the  widow,  the  eyes  both 
of  Mr.  Tupman  and  his  companion  had  been  fixed 
for  some  time,  when  the  stranger  broke  silence." 

"  Lots  of  money — old  girl — pompous  doctor — not 
a  bad  idea — good  fun,"  were  the  intelligible  sen- 
tences which  issued  from  his  lips.  Mr.  Tupman 
looked  inquisitely  in  his  face. 

"  I'll  dance  with  the  widow,"  said  the  stranger^ 

"Who  is  she?"  inquired  Mr.  Tupman. 

"Don't  know — never  saw  lier  in  all  my  life — • 
cut  out  the  doctor — -here  goes."  And  the  stranger 
forthwith  crossed  the  room;  and  leaning  againsl  a 
mantel-piece,  commenced  gazing  with  an  air  of 
respectful  and  melancholy  admiration  on  the  fat 
countenance  of  the  little  old  ladv.     Mn  Tupmaa 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  41 

looked  on  in  mute  astonishment.  The  stranger 
progressed  rapidly ;  the  Httle  doctor  danced  with 
another  lady — the  widow  dropped  her  fan ;  the 
stranger  picked  it  up,  and  presented  it, — a  smile — 
a  bow — a  courtesy — a  few  words  of  conversation. 
The  stranger  walked  boldly  up  to,  and  returned 
with,  the  master  of  the  ceremonies ;  a  little  intro- 
ductory pantomime ;  and  the  stranger  and  Mrs. 
Budger  took  their  places  in  a  quadrille. 

The  surprise  of  Mr.  Tupman  at  this  summary  pro- 
ceeding, great  as  it  was,  was  immeasurably  exceed^ 
ed  by  the  astonishment  of  the  doctor.  The  stran- 
ger was  young  and  the  widow  was  flattered.  The 
doctor's  attentions  were  unheeded  by  the  widow;  and 
the  doctor's  indignation  was  wholly  lost  on  his  im- 
perturbable rival.  Doctor  Slammer  was  paralyzed. 
He,  Doctor  Slammer  of  the  97th,  to  be  extinguish- 
ed in  a  moment,  by  a  man  whom  nobody  had  ever 
seen  before,  and  whom  nobody  knew  even  now  ! 
Doctor  Slammer — Doctor  Slammer  of  the  97th 
rejected  !  Impossible  !  It  could  not  be  !  Yes,  it 
was;  there  they  were.  What!  introducing  his 
friend!  Could  he  believe  his  eyes!  He  looked 
again,  and  was  under  the  painful  necessity  of  ad- 
mitting the  veracity  of  his  optics;  Mrs.  Budger 
W'as  dancing  with  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman;  there  was 
no  mistaking  the  fact.  There  was  the  widow  be- 
fore him,  bouncing  bodily,  here  and  there,  with  un- 
wonted vigour;  and  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman  hopping 
about,  with  a  face  expressive  of  the  most  intense 
solemnity,  dancing  (as  a  good  many  people  do)  as  if 
a  quadrille  were  not  a  thing  to  be  laughed  at,  but 
a  severe  trial  to  the  feelings,  which  it  requires  in- 
flexible resolution  to  encounter. 

Silently  and  patiently  did  the  doctor  bear  all 

this,  and  all  the  handings  of  negus,  and  watching 

for  glasses,  and  darting  for  biscuits,  and  coquetting, 

that  ensued ;  but,  a  few  seconds  aftef  the  stranger 

4* 


42  POSTHUMOUS  PAFER3.07' 

had  disappeared  to  lead  Mrs.  Budger  to  her  car-« 
riage,  he  darted  swiftly  from  the  room  with  every 
particle  of  his  hitherto-bottled-up  indignation  effer- 
vescing, from  all  parts  of  his  countenance,  in  n 
perspiration  of  passion. 

The  stranger  was  returning,  and  Mr.  Tupman 
was  beside  him.  He  spoke  in  a  low  tone,  and 
laughed.  The  little  doctor  thirsted  for  his  life. 
He  was  exulting.  He  had  triumphed. 
■  "Sir!"  said  the  doctor,  in  an  awful  voice,  pro- 
ducing a  card,  and  retiring  into  an  angle  of  the 
passage,  "  my  name  is  Slammer,  Doctor  Slammer, 
sir — 97th  regiment — Chatham  Barracks — my  card, 
sir,  my  card."  He  would  have  added  more,  but 
his  indignation  choked  him. 

"Ah!"  replied  the  stranger,  coolly.  Slammer — 
much  obliged — polite  attention — not  ill  now,  Slam- 
mer— but  when  I  am — knock  you  up." 

"  You— youVe  a  shuffler,  sir,"  gasped  the  furious 
doctor,  "  a  poltroon — a  coward — a  liar — a — a — 
will  nothing  induce  you  to  give  me  your  card, 
sir.'' 

"  Oh !  I  see,"  said  the  stranger,  half  aside,  "  ne- 
gus too  strong  here — liberal  landlord — very  fool- 
ish— very — lemonade  much  better — hot  rooms — 
elderly  gentlemen — sutler  for  it  in  the  morning — 
cruel — cruel ;"  and  he  moved  on  a  step  or  two. 

"You  are  stopping  in  this  house,  sir,"  said  the 
indignant  little  man;  "you  are  intoxicated  now, 
sir;  you  shall  hear  from  me  in  the  morning,  sir. 
I  shall  find  you  out,  sir;  I  shall  find  you  out." 

"Rather  you  found  me  out,  than  found  me  at 
home,"  replied  the  unmoved  stranger. 

Doctor  Slammer  looked  unutterable  ferocity,  as 
he  fixed  his  hat  on  his  head  wit»h  an  indignant 
knock ;  and  the  stranger  and  Mr.  Tupman  ascend- 
ed to  the  bed-room  of  the  latter  to  restore  the  bor- 
rowed plumage  to  the  unconscious  Winkle. 

That  geqtleman  was  fast  asleep  ;  the  restoration 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  43 

was  soon  made.  The  stranger  was  extremely- 
jocose  ;  and  Mr,  Tracy  Tupman,  being  quite  be- 
wildered with  wine,  negus, lights  and  ladies,  thought 
the  whole  affair  an  exquisite  joke.  His  new  friend 
departed;  and,  after  experiencing  some  slight  diffi- 
culty in  finding  the  orifice  in  his  night-cap,  origi- 
nally intended  for  the  reception  of  his  head,  and 
finally  overturning  his  candlestick  in  his  struggles 
to  put  it  on,  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman  managed  to  get 
into  bed,  by  a  series  of  complicated  evolutions,  and 
shortly  afterwards  sank  into  repose. 

Seven  o'clock  had  hardly  ceased  striking  on  the 
following  morning,  when  Mr.  Pickwick's  compre- 
hensive mind  was  aroused  from  the  state  of  un- 
consciousness, in  which  slumber  had  plunged  it,  by 
a  loud  knocking  at  his  chamber  door. 

"  Who's  there?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  starting  up 
in  bed. 

"  Boots,  sir." 

"What  do  you  want?" 

"  Please,  sir,  can  you  tell  me  which  gentleman 
of  your  party  wears  a  bright  blue  dress  coat,  with 
a  gilt  button  with  p.  c.  on  if?" 

"  It's  been  given  out  to  brush,"  thought  Mr. 
Pickwick  ;  and  the  man  has  forgatten  Vv'hom  it  be- 
longs to — "  Mr.  Winkle,"  he  called  out,  "  next 
room  but  two,  on  the  right  hand." 

"Thank'ee,  sir,"  said  the  boots,  and  away  he 
went. 

"  What's  the  matter?"  cried  Mr.  Tupman,  as  a 
loud  knocking  at  his  door  roused  him  from  his  ob- 
livious repose. 

''Can  I  speak  to  Mr.  Winkle,  sir?"  replied  the 
boots,  from  the  outside. 

''  Winkle— Winkle,"  shouted  Mr.  Tupman,  call- 
ing into  the  inner  room. 

"  Hallo !"  replied  a  faint  roice  from  within  the 
tlie  bed-clothes. 


44  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

"  You're  wanted — some  one  at  the  door — "  and 
having  exerted  himself  to  articulate  thus  much, 
Mr.  Tracy  Tupman  turned  round  and  fell  fast 
asleep  again. 

"Wanted!"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  hastily  jumping 
out  of  bed,  and  putting  on  a  few  articles  of  cloth- 
ing :  "  wanted  !  at  this  distance  from  town — who  on 
earth  can  want  me  ! 

"  Gentleman  in  the  coffee  room,  sir,"  replied 
boots,  as  Mr.  V/inkle  opened  the  door,  and  con- 
fronted him;  "gentleman  says  he'll  not  detain  you 
a  moment,  sir,  but  he  can  take  no  denial." 

"  Very  odd  !"  said  Mr.  Winkle  ;  I'll  be  dowii  di- 
rectly." 

"He  hurriedly  wrapped  himself  in  a  travelling- 
shawl,  and  dressing-gown,  and  proceeded  down 
stairs.  An  old  woman  and  a  couple  of  waiters 
were  cleaning  the  coffee  room,  and  an  officer  in 
undress  uniform  was  looking  out  of  the  window. 
He  turned  round  as  Mr.  Winkle  entered,  and  made 
a  stiff  inclination  of  the  head.  Having  ordered 
the  attendants  to  retire,  and  closed  the  door  very 
carefully^  he  said,  "  Mr.  Winkle,  I  presume?" 

"  My  name  is  Winkle,  sir  B'^ 

"You  will  not  be  surprised,  sir,  when  I  inform 
you,  that  I  liave  called  here  this  morning  on  be- 
half of  my  friend,  Dr.  Slammer,  of  the  Ninety-se- 
venth." 

"  Doctor  Slammer  !"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"Doctor  Slammer.  He  begged  me  to  express 
his  opinion  that  yoilr  conduct  of  last  evening  was 
of  a  description  which  no  gentleman  could  endure ; 
and  (he  added)  which  no  one  gentleman  would 
pursue  towards  another." 

Mr.  Winkle's  astonishment  was  too  real,  and  too 
evident,  to  escape  the  observation  of  Doctor  Slam*- 
mer's  friend;  he  therefore  proceeded.  "My  friend, 
Doctor  Slammer,  requested  me  to  add,  that  he  is- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  45 

firmly  persuaded  you  were  intoxicated  during  a 
portion  of  the  evening,  and  possibly  unconscious  of 
the  extent  of  the  insult  you  were  guilty  of.  He 
commissioned  me  to  say,  that  should  this  be  plead- 
ed as  an  excuse  for  your  behaviour,  he  will  con- 
sent to  accept  a  written  apology,  to  be  penned  by 
you  from  my  dictation." 

"  A  written  apology  !"  repeated  Mr.  Winkle,  in 
the  most  emphatic  tone  of  amazement  possible. 

"  Of  course  you  know  the  alternative,"  replied 
the  visiter,  coolly. 

"  Were  you  intrusted  with  this  message  to  me 
by  name?'  inquired  Mr.  Winkle,  whose  intellects 
were  hopelessly  confused  by  this  extraordinary 
conversation. 

"  I  was  not  present  myself,^'  replied  the  visiter, 
"  and  in  consequence  of  your  firm  refusal  to  give 
your  card  to  Dr.  Slammer,  I  was  desired  by  that 
gentleman  to  identify  the  wearer  of  a  very  uncom- 
mon coat — a  bright  blue  dress  coat,  with  a  gilt 
button,  displaying  a  bust,  and  the  letters  '  p.  c'  " 

Mr.  Winkle  actually  staggered  with  astonish- 
ment, as  he  heard  his  own  costume  thus  minutely 
described.     Dr.  Slammer's  friend  proceeded  : 

"  From  the  inquiries  I  made  at  the  bar,  just 
now,  I  was  convinced  that  the  owner  of  the  coat 
in  question  arrived  here,  with  three  gentlemen, 
yesterday  afternoon.  I  immediately  sent  up  to 
the  gentleman  who  was  described  as  appearing 
the  head  of  the  party ;  and  he,  at  once,  referred 
me  to  you." 

If  the  principal  tower  of  Rochester  Castle  had 
suddenly  walked  from  its  foundation,  and  stationed 
itself  opposite  the  coflfee-room  window,  Mr,  Win- 
kle's surprise  would  have  been  as  nothing,  com- 
pared with  the  profound  astonishment  with  which 
lie  had  heard  this  address.   His  first  impression  was 


46  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

that  his  coat  had  been  stolen.  "  Will  you  allow 
me  to  detain  you  one  moment  ?"  said  he. 

"Certainly,"  replied  the  unwelcome  visiter. 

Mr.  Winkle  ran  hastily  up  stairs,  and  with  a 
trembling  hand  opened  the  bag.  There  was  the 
coat  in  its  usual  place,  but  exhibiting,  on  a  close 
inspection,  evident  tokens  of  having  been  worn  on 
the  preceding  night. 

"  It  must  be  so,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  letting  the 
coat  fall  from  his  hands;"  I  took  too  much  wine 
after  dinner,  and  have  a  very  vague  recollection 
of  walking  about  the  streets,  and  smoking  a  cigar 
afterwards.  The  fact  is,  I  was  very  drunk :  1 
must  have  changed  my  coat — gone  somewhere — 
and  insulted  somebody ;  I  have  no  doubt  of  it ; 
and  this  message  is  the  terrible  consequence.  Say- 
ing which,  Mr.  VVnkle  retraced  his  steps  in  the 
direction  of  the  coffee-room,  with  the  gloomy  and 
dreadful  resolve  of  accepting  the  challenge  of  the 
warlike  Doctor  Slammer,  and  abiding  by  the  worst 
consequences  that  might  ensue. 

To  this  determination  Mr.  Winkle  was  urged  by 
a  variety  of  considerations  ;  the  first  of  which 
was,  his  reputation  with  the  club.  He  had  always 
been  looked  up  to  as  a  high  authority  on  all  mat- 
ters of  amusement  and  dexterity,  whether  offen- 
sive, defensive,  or  inoffensive ;  and  if,  on  this  very 
first  occasion  of  being  put  to  the  test,  he  shrunk 
back  from  the  trial,  beneath  his  leader's  eye,  his 
name  and  standing  were  lost  for  ever.  Besides, 
he  remembered  to  have  heard  it  frequently  sur- 
mised by  the  uninitiated  in  such  matters,  that  by 
an  understood  arrangement  between  the  seconds, 
the  pistols  were  seldom  loaded  with  ball;  and,  fur- 
thermore he  reflected  that  if  he  applied  to  Mr. 
Snodgrass  to  act  as  his  second,  and  depicted  the 
danger  in  glowing  terms,  that  gentleman  might 
possibly  communicate  the  intelligence  to  Mr.  Pick' 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  47 

wick,  who  would  cerlainlj  lose  no  time  in  trans- 
mitting it  to  the  local  authorities,  and  thus  prevent 
the  kiihng  or  maiming  of  his  follower. 

Such  were  his  thoughts  when  he  returned  to  the 
coffee-room,  and  intimated  his  intention  of  accept- 
ing the  Doctor's  challenge. 

"  Will  you  refer  me  to  a  friend,  to  arrange  the 
time  and  place  of  meeting?"  said  the  officer. 

"Quite  unnecessary,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle, -"name 
them  to  me,  and  I  can  procure  the  attendance  of 
a  friend  afterwards.'^ 

"  Shall  we  say— sunset,  this  evening?"  inquired 
the  officer,  in  a  careless  tone. 

"Very  good,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle;  thinking  in 
his  heart  it  was  very  bad. 
,     "You  know  Fort  Pitt ?" 

"Yes;  I  saw  it  yesterday." 

"  If  you  will  take  the  trouble  to  turn  into  the 
field  which  borders  the  trench,  take  the  foot-path 
to  the  left,  when  you  arrive  at  an  angle  of  the 
fortification;  and  keep  straight  on  till  you  see 
me:  1  will  precede  you  to  a  secluded  place,  where 
the  affair  can  be  conducted  without  fear  of  inter- 
ruption." 

^^  Fear  of  interruption  !"  thought  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  Nothing  more  to  arrange,  1  think,"  said  the 
officer. 

"  I  am  not  aware  of  any  thing  more,"  replied 
Mr.  Winkle. 

"Good  morning." 

"  Good  morning :"  and  the  officer  whistled  a 
lively  air,  as  he  strode  away. 

That  morning's  breakfast  passed  heavily  off. 
Mr.  Tupman  was  not  in  a  condition  to  rise,  after 
the  unwonted  dissipation  of  the  previous  night; 
Mr.  Snodgrass  appeared  to  labour  under  a  poetical 
depression  of  spirits;  and  even  Mr.  Pickwick 
evinced  an  unusual  attachment  to  silence  and  soda 


48  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

water.  Mr.  Winkle  eagerly  watched  his  opportu- 
nity. It  was  not  long  wanting.  Mr.  Snodgrass 
proposed  a  visit  to  the  castle,  and  as  Mr.  Winkle 
was  the  only  other  member  of  the  party  disposed 
to  walk,  they  went  out  together. 

"  Snodgrass,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  when  they  had' 
turned  out  of  the  public  street ;  "  Snodgrass,  my 
dear  fellow,  can  I  rely  upon  your  secrecy?'     As 
he  said  this,  he  most  devoutly  and  earnestly  hoped 
he  could  not. 

"  You  can,"  repUed  Mr.  Snodgrass.  "  Hear  me 
swear — " 

"No,  no;'^  interrupted  Winkle,  terrified  at  the 
idea  of  his  companion's  unconsciously  pledging 
himself  not  to  give  information :  "  don't  swear, 
don't  swear ;  it's  quite  unnecessary. 

Mr.  Snodgrass  dropped  the  hand  which  he  had, 
in  the  spirit  of  poesy,  raised  towards  the  clouds,  as 
he  made  the  above  appeal,  and  assumed  an  attitude 
of  attention^ 

"  I  want  your  assistance,  my  dear  fellow,  in  an 
affair  of  honour,"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"You  shall  have  it,"  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass, 
clasping  his  friend's  hand. 

"  With  a  doctor — Doctor  Slammer,  of  the  Nine- 
ty-seventh," said  Mr.  Winkle,  wishing  to  make 
the  matter  appear  as  solemn  as  possible;  "  an  affair 
with  an  officer,  seconded  by  another  officer,  at 
sunset  this  evening,  in  a  lonely  tield  beyond  Fort 
Pitt." 

"  I  will  attend  you,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

He  was  astonished,  but  by  no  means  dismayed. 
It  is  extraordinary  how  cool  any  party  but  the 
principal  can  be  in  such  cases.  Mr.  Winkle  had 
forgotten  this.  He  had  judged  of  his  friend's  feel- 
ings by  his  own. 

"  The  consequences  may  be  dreadful,"  said  Mr^ 
Winkle. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  49 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  Mr.  Snodgmss. 

"  The  doctor,  I  believe,  is  a  very  good  shot," 
said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  Most  of  these  military  men  are,"  observed 
Mr.  Snodgrass,  calml)'  ;  "  but  so  are  vou,  an't 
you?" 

Mr.  Winkle  replied  in  the  affirmative ;  and  per- 
ceiving that  he  had  not  alarmed  his  companion 
sufficientl}^  changed  his  ground. 

"  Snodgrass,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  tremulous  with 
emotion,  "  if  I  fall,  you  will  find  in  a  packet  which 
I  shall  place  in  your  hands  a  note  for  mv— for  mv 
father.'' 

This  attack  was  a  failure  also.  Mr.  Snodgrass 
was  affected,  but  he  undertook  the  delivery  of  the 
note,  as  readily  as  if  he  had  been  a  Twopenny 
Postman. 

"If  I  fall,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  "or  if  the  doctor 
falls,  you,  my  dear  friend,  will  be  tried  as  an  ac- 
cessory before  the  fact.  Shall  I  involve  my  friend 
in  transportation — possibly  for  life  !" 

Mr.  Snodgrass  winced  a  little  at  this,  but  his 
heroism  was  invincible.  "  In  the  cause  of  friend- 
ship," he  fervently  exclaimed,  "  I  would  brave  all 
dangers." 

How  Mr.  Winkle  cursed  his  companion's  de- 
voted friendship  internally,  as  they  walked  silently 
along,  side  by  side,  for  some  minutes,  each  im- 
mersed in  his  own  meditations  !  The  morning  was 
wearing  away ;  he  grew  desperate. 

"Snodgrass,"  he  said,  stopping  suddenly,  "do 
hiot  let  me  be  balked  in  this  matter — do  7iot  give 
information  to  the  local  authorities — do  not  obtain 
the  assistance  of  seVeral  peace  officers,  to  take 
either  me  or  Doctor  Slammer  of  the  Ninety-seventh 
regiment,  at  present  quartered  in  Chatham  Bar- 
racks, into  custody,  and  \hm  ptevcui  this  dud;-^ 
I  say,  do  7/0/." 
5 


50  POSTHUxMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

Mr.  Snodgrass  seized  his  friend's  hand  warmly, 
as  he  enthusiastically  replied,  "Not  for  worlds!" 

A  thrill  passed  over  Mr.  Winkle's  frame,  as  the 
conviction  that  he  had  nothing  to  hope  frona  his 
friend's  fears,  and  that  he  was  destined  to  beconne 
an  animated  target,  riislied  forcibly  upon  him. 

The  state  of  the  case  having  been  formally  ex- 
plained to  JMr.  Snodgrass,  and  a  case  of  satisfac- 
tion pistols,  with  the  satisfactory  accompaniments 
of  powder,  bail,  and  caps,  having  been  hired  from 
a  manufacturer  in  Rociiester,  the  two  friends  re- 
turned to  their  inn:  Mr.  Winkle,  (o  rutninate  on  the 
approaching  struggle;  and  Mr.  Snodgrass,  to  ar- 
range the  weapons  of  war,  aiid  put  them  into  pro- 
per order  for  immediate  use. 

It  was  a  dull  and  heavy  evening,  when  ihcy 
again  sallied  forth  on  their  awkward  errand.  Mr. 
Winkle  was  muffled  up  in  a  huge  cloak  to  escape 
observation :  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  bore  under  his  the 
instruments  of  destruction. 

"Have  you  got  ev'ry  thing?"  said  Mr.  Winkle, 
in  an  agitated  tone. 

"  Ev'ry  thing,"  replied  ]Mr.  Snodgrass  ;  "  plenty 
of  ammunition,  in  case  the  shots  don't  take  effect. 
There's  a  quarter  of  a  pound  of  powder  in  the  case, 
and  1  have  got  two  nev\'spapers  in  my  pockel,  for 
the  loadings." 

These  were  instances  of  friendship,  for  which 
any  man  might  reasonably  feel  most  grateful.  The 
presumption  is,  that  the  gratitude  of  Mr.  Winkle 
was  too  powerful  for  utterance,  as  he  said  nothing, 
but  continued  to  walk  on — rather  slowly. 

"We  are  in  excellent  time,"  said  Mr.  Snod- 
grass, as  they  climbed  the  fence  of  the  first  field  : 
♦'  the  sun  is  just  going  down."  Mr.  Winkle  looked 
up  at  the  declining  orb,  and  painfully  thought  of 
the  probability  of  his  "  going  down''  himself,  be- 
fore long. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB,  51 

"There's  the  officer,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Winkle, 
after  a  few  minutes'  walking, 

"Where?"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"There; — the  gentl-eman  in  the  bhie  cloak." 
Mr.  Snodgrass  looked  in  the  direction  indicated  by 
the  forefinger  of  his  friend,  and  observed  a  figure, 
muffled  up,  as  he-  had  described.  The  officer 
evinced  his  consciousness  of  their  presence  by 
slightly  beckoning  with  his  hand;  and  the  two 
friends  followed  him,  at  a  little  distance,  as  he 
walked  awaj'. 

The  evening  2;rew  more  dull  every  moment,  and 
a  melancholy  wind  sounded  through  the  deserted 
fields,  like  a  distant  giant  whistling  for  his  house 
dog.  The  sadness  of  the  scene  imparted  a  sombre 
tinge  to  the  feelings  of  Mr.  Winkle.  He  started  as 
they  passed  the  angle  of  the  trench — it  looked  like 
a  colossal  grave. 

The  officer  turned  suddenly  from  the  path;  and 
after  climbing  a  paling  and  scaling  a  hedge,  enter- 
ed a  secluded  field.  Two  gentleman  were  wait- 
ing in  it ;  one  was  a  little  fat  man,  with  black  hair; 
and  the  other — a  portly  personage  in  a  braided 
surtout — was  sitting  with  perfect  equanimity  on  a 
camp-stool. 

"  The  other  party,  and  a  surgeon,  I  suppose," 
said  Mr.  Snodgrass;  "  take  a  drop  of  brandy." 
Mr.  Winkle  seized  the  wicker  bottle  which  his 
friend  proffered,  and  took  a  lengthened  pull  at  the 
exhilarating  liquid. 

"  My  friend,  sir,  Mr.  Snodgrass,"  said  Mr.  Win- 
kle as  the  officer  approached.  Doctor  Slammer's 
friend  bowed,  and  produced  a  case  similar  to  that 
which  Mr.  Snodgrass  carried. 

"  We  have  noUiing  farther  to  say,  sir,  I  think," 
he  coldly  remarked,  as  he  opened  the  case ;  "  an. 
apology  has  been  resolutely  declined." 


52  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

'^  Nothing,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  who  began 
to  feel  rather  uncomfortable  himself. 

<'  Will  you  step  forward  ?"  said  the  officer. 

'^  Certauily,"  replied  Mr.  Shodgrass.  The 
ground  was  measured,  and  preliminaries  ar- 
ranged. 

"  You  will  find  these  better  than  your  own." 
said  the  opposite  second  producing  his  pistols. 
"You  saw  me  load  them.  Do  vou  object  to  use 
them?' 

"Certainly  not,"  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass.  The 
offer  relieved  him  from  considerable  embarrass- 
iTient ;  for  his  previous  notions  of  loading  a  pistol 
were  rather  vague  and  undefined. 

"  We  may  place  our  men,  then,  I  think,"  ob- 
served the  officer,  with  as  much  inditference  as  if 
the  principals  were  chess-men,  and  the  seconds 
players. 

"I  think  we  may,''  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass;  who 
would  have  assented  to  any  proposition,  because 
he  knew  nothing  about  the  matter.  The  officer 
crossed  to  Doctor  Slammer,  and  Mr.  Snodgrass 
went  up  to  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  It's  all  ready,"  he  said,  offering  the  pistol. 
"  Give  me  your  cloak." 

"You  have  got  the  packet,  my  dear  fellow," 
said  poor  Winkle. 

"All  right,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass.  "Be  steady, 
and  wing  him." 

It  occurred  to  Mr.  Winkle  that  this  advice  was 
very  like  that  which  by-standers  invariably  give 
to  the  smallest  boy  in  a  street  fight:  namely,  "  Go 
in,  and  win ;"  an  admirable  thing  to  recommend, 
if  you  only  know  how  to  do  it.  He  took  oiT  his 
cloak,  however,  in  silence— it  always  took  a  long 
time  to  undo  that  cloak — and  accepted  the  pistol. 
The  seconds  retired,  the  gentleman  on  the  camp- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  5S' 

stool  did  the  same,  and  the  belligerents  approach-* 
ed  each  other. 

Mr,  Winkle  was  always  remarkable  for  extreme 
humanity.  It  is  conjectured  that  his  unwillingness 
to  hurt  a  fellow-creature  intentionally,  was  the 
cause  of  his  shutting  his^  eyes  when  he  arrived  at 
the  fatal  spot;  and  that  the  circumstance  of  his* 
eyes  being  closed,  prevented  his  observing  the  very 
extraordinary  and  unaccountable  demeanour  of 
Doctor  Slammer.  That  gentleman  started,  stared; 
retreated,  rubbed  his  eyes,  stared  again;  and^ 
finally,  shouted  "Stop,  stop!" 

"What's  all  this?'  said  Doctor  Slammer,  as  his 
friend  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  came  running  up — 
"  That's  not  the  man." 

*^'Not  the  man  !"  said  Doctor  Slammer's  second. 

"  Not  the  man  1"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"N'otthe  man!"  said  the  gentleman  with  the 
camp-stool  in  his  hand. 

"Certainly  not,"  replied  the  little  doctor.  ^'That's 
not  the  person  who  insulted  me  last  night." 

"  Very  extraordinary  1"  exclaimed  the  officer. 

"Very,"  said  the  gentleman  with  the  camp- 
stool.  "  The  only  question  is,  whether  the  gentle- 
man, being  on  the  ground,  must  not  be  considered, 
as  a  matter  of  form,  to  be  the  individual  who  in- 
sulted our  fi'iend,  Doctor  Slam.mer,  yesterday  even- 
ing, whether  he  is  really  that  individual  or  not:" 
and  having  delivered  this  suggestion  with  a  very 
sage  and  mysterious  air,  the  man  with  the  camp- 
stool  took  a  large  pinch  of  snnftV  and  looked  pro- 
foundly round,  with  the  air  of  an  authority  in  suck- 
matters.  ~ 

Now  Mr.  Winkle  had  opened  his  eyes,  and  his 
ears  too,  wlien  he  heard  his  adversary  call  out  for 
a  cessation  of  hostilities  ;  and  perceiving  by  what 
he  had  afterwards  said,  that  there  was,  beyond  all 
q^uestion,  some  mistake  in  the  matter,  he  at  once 
5* 


5^  POSTHUMOUS  PAPfiRSvCWr 

foresaw  the  increase  of  reputation  he  should  in 3-v it-, 
ably  acquire,  by  concealing  the  real  motive  of  his 
coming  out:  he  therefore  stepped  boldly  forward,. 
a,nd  said — 

"I  am  not  the  person.     I  know  it." 

"  Then,  that,"  sai(j[  the  man  with  the  camp-stool, 
''■is  an  afTront  to  Doctor  Slammer,  and  a  sufficient 
reason  for  proceeding  immediatel3^" 

"Pray  be  quiet,  Payne,"  said  the  Doctor's  se- 
cond. "  Why  did  you  not  communicate  this  fact 
to  me  this  morning,  sir  r' 

'^  To  be  sure — to  be  sure,"  said  the  man  with 
the  camp-stool,  indignantly. 

''  I  entreat  you  to  be  quiet,  Payne,"  said  the 
other.     "  May  I  repeat  my  question,  sir?" 

"Because,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  who  had 
had  time  to  deliberate  upon  his  answer — "because 
sir,  you  described  an  intoxicated  and  ungentleman- 
ly  person  as  weaving  a  coat,  which  I  have  the  ho- 
nour, not  only  to  wear,  but  to  have  invented — the 
proposed  uniform,  sir,  of  the  Pickwick  Club  in 
London.  The  honour  of  that  uniform  1  feel  bound 
to  maintain,  and  I  therefore,  without  inquiry,  ac- 
cepted the  challenge  which  you  ofiered  me." 

"My  dear  sir,"  said  the  good-humoured  little 
doctor,  advancing  with  extended  hand,  '' I  honour 
your  gallantry.  Permit  me  to  say,  sir,  that  I  high- 
ly admire  your  conduct,  and  extremely  regret 
having  caused  you  the  inconvenience  of  this  meet- 
ing, to  no  purpose." 

"I  beg  you  won't  mention  it, sir,"  said  Mr.  Win- 
kle. 

"  I  shall  feel  proud  of  your  acquaintance,  sir," 
said  the  little  doctor. 

"It  will  atlbrd  me  the  greatest  pleasure  to  know 
you,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle.  Thereupon  the 
doctor  and  Mr.  Winkle  shook  hands,  and  then  Mr. 
Winkle  and  Lieutenant .Tappleton,  (the  doctorls. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  55 

second,)  and  then  Mr.  Winkle  and  the  man  with 
the  camp-stool;  and,  finally,  Mr.  Winkle  and  Mr. 
Snodgrass  :  the  last  named  gentleman  in  an  excess 
of  admiration  at  the  noble  conduct  of  his  heroic 
friend. 

*'  I  think  we  may  adjourn,"  said  Lieutenant  Tap- 
ptleton. 

"Certainly,'^  added  the  doctor. 

"Unles^?,"  interposed  the  man  with  the  camp-- 
stool, '''unless  Mr.  Winkle  feels  himself  aggrieved 
by  the  challenge;  in  which  case,  I  submit,  he  has 
a  right  la  satisiaction." 

Mr.  Winkle,  with  great  self-denial,  expressed 
himself  quite  satisfied  already. 

''Or,  possibly,"  said  the  man  with  the  camp- 
stool,  "  the  gentleman's  second  may  feel  himself  af- 
fronted with  some  observations  which  fell  from  me 
at  an  early  period  of  this  meeting:  if  so,  I  shall  be 
happy  to  give  him  satisfaction  immediately." 

Mr.  Snodgrass  hastily  professed  himself  very 
much  obliged  with  i\\Q  handsome  offer  of  the  gen- 
tleman who  had  spoken  last,  which  he  was  only 
induced  to  decline,  by  his  entire  contentment  with 
the  whole  proceedings.  The  two  seconds  adjust- 
ed the  cases,  and  the  whole  party  left  the  ground 
in  a  much  more  lively  manner  than  they  had  pro- 
ceeded to  it. 

"Do  you  remain  long  here?"  inquired  Doctor 
Slammer  of  Mr.  Winkle,  as  they  walked  on  most 
amicably  together. 

"  I  thiuk  we  shall  leave  here  the  day  after  to= . 
morrow,'^  was  the  reply. 

"  I  trust  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you 
and  your  friend  at  my  rooms,  and  of  spending  a 
pleasant  evening  v/ith  you,  after  this  awkward  mis-, 
take,"  said  the  little  doctor:  "are,  yoadiseiigcig^ed^ 
this  evening  ]" 

^'-We.  h.^ye.  some   friends   here,"  replied   M^v. 


56  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

Winkle,  "  and  I  should  not  like  io  leavp  them  to- 
night. Perhaps  you.  and  your  friend  will  join  us 
at  the  Bull/' 

^' With  great  pleasure,"  said  the  little  doctor; 
"  will  ten  o'clock  be  too  late  to  look  in  for  half  an 
hour?' 

"  Oh  dear,  no,"  said  Mr.  Winkle.  "  I  shall  be 
most  happy  to  introduce  you  to  my  friends,  Mr. 
Pickwick  and  Mr.  Tupman. 

'•It  wl!l  give  me  great  pleasure,  I  am  sure,"  re- 
Dlied  Doctor  Slammer,  little  suspecting  who  ]\Ir. 
Tupman  was. 

"  You  will  be  sure  to  come  V^  said  Mr.  Snod- 
grass. 

"  Oh  certainly." 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  road.  Cor- 
dial farewells  were  exchanged,  and  the  party  se- 
parated. Doctor  Slammer  and  his  friends  repaired 
to  the  barracks,  and  Mr.  Winkle,  accompanied  bv 
his  friend,  Mr.  Snodgrass,  returned  to  their  inn. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  57 


CHAPTER  III. 

A    NEW 

DISAGREEABLE  INTERRUPTION;  AND  AN  UNPLEASANT 
RENCONTRE. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  felt  some  apprehensions  in 
cunseqnoncG  of  the  unusual  absence  of  his  twcL 
friends,  which  their  mysterious  behaviour  during 
the  whole  morning  had  by  no  means  tended  to 
diminish.  It  was,  therefore,  with  more  than  ordi- 
nary pleasure  that  he  rose  to  greet  them  when 
they  again  entered,  and  with  more  than  ordinary 
interest  that  he  inquired  what  had  occurred  to  de- 
tain them  from  his  society.  In  reply  to  his  ques- 
tions on  this  point,  Mr.  Snodgrass  was  about  to 
ofibr  an  historical  account  of  the  circumstances 
just  now  detailed,  when  he  was  suddenly  checked, 
by  observing  that  there  were  present,  not  only 
Mr.  Tupman  and  their  stage  coach  companion  of 
the  preceding  day,  but  another  stranger  of  equally 
singular  appearance.  It  was  a  care-worn  looking 
nian,  whose  sallow  face,  and  deeply  sunken  eyes, 
were  rendered  still  more  striking  than  nature  had 
made  them,  by  the  straight  black  hair  which  hung 
in  matted  disorder  half  way  down  his  face.  His 
eyes  were  almost  unnaturally  bright  and  piercing; 
his  cheek  bones  were  high  and  prominent ;  and  his 
jaws  were  so  long  and  lank,  that  an  observer  would, 
have  supposed  he  was  drawing  the  flesh  off  his  face 
in,  for  a  moment,  by  some  contraction  of  the  mus- 
cles, if  his  half-opened  mouth  and  immoveable  ex- 
pression had  not  announced  that  it  was  his  ordi- 


58  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

nary  appearance.  Round  his  neck  he  wore  a 
green  shawl,  with  the  large  ends  straggling  over 
his  chest,  and  making  their  appearance  occasion- 
ally, beneath  the  worn  button-holes  of  his  old  waist- 
coat. His  upper  garment  was  a  long  black  sur- 
tout;  and  below  it,  he  wore  wide  drab  trousers,* 
and  large  boots,  running  rapidly  to  seed. 

It  was  on  this  uncouth-looking  personagCj  that 
Mr.  Winkle's  eye  rested,  and  it  was  towards  him 
that  Mr.  Pickwick  extended  his  hand,  when  he  said 
"A  friend  of  our  friend's  here.  We  discovered  this 
morning  that  our  friend  was  connected  with  the 
theatre  in  this  place,  though  he  is  not  desirous  to 
haye  it  generally  known,  and  this  gentleman  is  a 
member  of  the  same  profession.  He  was  about  to 
favour  us  with  a  little  anecdote  connected  with  it, 
when  you  entered.'^ 

"  Lots  of  anecdote,"  said  the  green  coated  stran- 
ger of  the  day  before,  advancing  to  Mr.  Winkle, 
and  speaking  in  a  low  conhdential  tone.  "Rum 
fellow — does  the  heavy  business — no  actor — 
strange  man — all  sorts  of  miseries — dismal  Jem- 
my, we  call  him  on  the  cirrAiit."  Mr.  Winkle  and 
Mr.  Snodgrass  politely  welcomed  the  gentleman, 
elegantly  designated  as  "Dismal  Jemmy;"  and 
calling  for  brandy  and  water,  in  imitation  of  the 
remainder  of  the  company,  seated  themselves  at 
the  table. 

"  Now,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  '•  will  you  oblige 
us  with  proceeding  with  what  vou  were  going  to 
relate?" 

The  dismal  individual  took  a  dirty  roll  of  paper 
from  his  pocket,  and  turning  to  Mr.  Snodgrass,  Vv'ho 
had  just  taken  out  his  note- book,  said  in  a  hollow 
voice,  perfectly  in  keeping  with  his  outward  man 
. — "  Are  you  the  poet?" 

"  I— I  do  a  little  in  that  way,"  replied  Mr.  Snod. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  59 

grass,  rather  taken  aback  by  the  abruptness  of  the 
question. 

"Ah!  poetry  makes  life,  what  lights  and  music 
do  the  stage.  Strip  the  one  of  its  false  embellish'- 
ments,  and  the  other  of  its  illusions,  and  what  is 
tliere  real  in  either,  to  live  or  care  for?" 

"  Very  true,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"To  be  before  the  footlights,"  continued  the  dis- 
mal man,  "is  like  sitting  at  a  grand  court  show, 
and  admiring  the  silken  dresses  of  the  gaudy 
throng — to  be  behind  them,  is  to  be  the  people  who 
make  that  finery,  uncared  for  and  unknown,  and 
left  to  sink  or  swim,  to  starve  or  live,  as  fortune 
wills  it." 

"Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass  :  for  the  sunken 
eye  of  the  dismal  man  rested  on  him,  and  he  felt 
it  necessary  to  say  something. 

"Go  on,  Jemmy,"  said  the  Spanish  traveller, 
"like  black-eyed  Susan — all  in  the  Downs— no 
croaking,  speak  out — look  livel}^'^ 

"  Vvill  you  take  another  glass  before  you  be- 
gin, sir?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

The  dismal  man  took  the  hint,  and  having 
mixed  a  glass  of  brandy  and  water,  and  slowly 
swallowed  half  of  it.  opened  the  roll  of  paper,  and 
proceeded,  partly  to  read  and  partly  to  relate,  the 
foilowing  incident,  which  we  hnd  recorded  on  the 
Transactions  of  the  Club,  as  "The  Stroller't? 
Tale." 

"  There  is  nothing  of  the  marvellous  in  what  1 
am  going  to  relate."  said  the  dismal  man  ;  '•  there 
is  nothing  even  uncommon  in  it.  Want  and  sick- 
ness are  too  common  in  many  stations  of  life,  to 
deserve  more  notice  than  is  usually  bestowed  on 
the  most  ordinary  vicissitudes  of  human  nature.  I 
have  thrown  these  few  notes  together,  because  the 
subject  of  them  was  well  known  to  me  for  many 
vears.     I  traced  his  progress  downwards,  step  by 


'60  POSTHUMOUS  rAPERS  OF 

step,  until  at  last  he  reached  that  excess  of  destitu- 
tion from  which  he  never  rose  again. 

*'  The  man  of  whom  I  speak  was  a  low  panto- 
mime actor;  and,  like  many  people  of  his  class,  an 
habitual  drunkard.  In  his  better  days,  before  he 
had  become  enfeebled  by  dissipation  and  emaciated 
by  disease,  he  had  been  in  tlie  receipt  of  a  good 
salary,  which,  if  he  had -been  careful  and  prudent, 
he  might  have  continued  to  receive  for  some  years 
-^not  many  ;  because  these  men  either  die  early, 
or,  by  unnaturally  taxing  their  bodily  energies,  lose 
prematurely,  those  physical  powers  on  which  alone 
they  can  depend  for  subsistence.  His  besetting  sin 
gained  so  fast  upon  him,  however,  that  it  was 
found  impossible  to  employ  him  in  the  situations  in 
which  he  really  was  useful  to  the  theatre.  The  pub- 
lic-house had  a  fascination  for  him  which  he  could 
not  resist.  Neglected  disease  and  hopeless  poverty 
were  as  certain  to  be  his  portion  as  death  itself,  if 
he  persevered  in  the  same  course ;  yet  he  did  per- 
severe, and  the  result  may  be  guessed.  He  could 
obtain  ito  engagement,  and  he  wanted  bread. 

"  Every  body  who  is  at  all  acquainted  with  the- 
atrical matters,  knows  what  a  host  of  shabby, 
poverty-stricken  men,  hang  about  the  stage  of  a 
large  establishment — not  i-egularly  engaged  ac- 
tors, but  ballet  people,  procession  men,  tumblers, 
and  so  forth,  who  are  taken  on  during  the  run  of  a 
pantomime,  or  an  Easter  piece,  and  are  then  dis- 
charged, until  the  production  of  some  heavy  spec- 
tacle occasions  a  new  demand  for  their  services. 
To  this  mode  of  life  the  man  wa^  compelled  to  re- 
sort; and  taking  the  •chair  every  night,  at  some 
low  theatrical  house,  at  once  put  him  in  possession 
of  a  few  more  shillings  weekly,  and  enabled  him  to 
gratify  his  old  propensity.  Even  this  resource 
shortly  failed  him  ;  his  irregularities  were  too  great 
to  admit  of  his  earning  the  wretched  pittance  he 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  ^1 

might  thus  have  procured,  and  he  was  actually  re- 
duced to  a  state  bordering  on  starvation,  only  pro- 
curing a  trifle  occasionally  by  borrowing  it  of  some 
old  companion,  or  by  obtaining  an  appearance  at 
one  or  other  of  the  commonest  of  the  minor  thea- 
tres; and  when  he  did  earn  any  thing,  it  was  spent 
in  the  old  way. 

"  About  this  time,  and  when  he  had  been  exist- 
ing for  upwards  of  a  year  no  one  knew  how,  I  had 
a  short  engagement  at  one  of  the  theatres  on  the 
Surrey  side  of  the  w.ater,  and  here  1  saw  this  man, 
whom  I  had  lost  sight  of  for  some  time ;  for  I  had 
been  travelling  in  the  provinces,  and  he  had  been 
skulking  in  the  lanes  and  alleys  of  London.  I  was 
dressed  to  leave  the  house,  and  was  crossing  the 
stage  on  my  way  out,  when  he  tapped  me  on  the 
shoulder.  Never  shall  I  forget  the  repulsive  sight 
that  met  my  eye  when  I  turned  round.  He  was 
dressed  for  the  pantomime,  in  all  the  absurdity  of  a 
clown's  costume.  The  spectral  figures  in  the  Dance 
of  Death,  the  most  frightful  shapes  that  the  ablest 
painter  ever  portrayed  on  canvass,  never  presented 
an  appearance  half  so  ghastly.  His  bloated  body 
and  shrunken  legs — their  deformity  enhanced  a 
hundred  fold  by  the  fantastic  dress — the  glassy 
eyes,  contrasting  fearfully  with  the  thick  white 
paint  with  which  the  face  was  besmeared:  the 
grotesquely-ornamented  head,  trembling  with  para- 
lysis, and  the  long  skinny  hands,  rubbed  with  white 
chalk — all  gave  him  a  hideous  and  unnatural  ap- 
pearance, of  which  no  description  could  convey  an 
adequate  idea,  and  which,  to  this  day,  I  shudder  to 
think  of.  His  voice  was  hollow  and  tremulous,  as 
he  took  me  aside,  and  in  broken  words  recounted  a 
long  catalogue  of  sickness  and  privations,  termina- 
ting, as  usual,  with  an  urgent  request  for  the  loan 
ef  a  trifling  sum  of  nfiorlev.  I  put  a  few  shillings 
6 


63  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

in  his  hand,  and,  as  I  turned  away,  I  heard  the 
roar  of  laughter  which  followed  his  .first  tumble  on 
to  the  stage. 

"A  few  nights  afterwards,  a  boy  put  a  dirty 
scrap  of  paper  in  my  hand,  on  which  were  scrawled 
a  few  words  in  pencil,  intimating  that  the  man 
was  dangerously  ill,  and  begging  me,  after  the  per- 
formance, to  see  him  at  his  lodgings  in  some  street 
— I  forget  the  name  of  it  now — at  no  great  dis- 
tance from  the  theatre.  I  promised  to  comply,  as 
soon  as  I  could  get  away;  and,  after  the  curtain 
fell,  sallied  forth  on  my  melancholy  errand. 

"  It  was  late,  for  I  had  been  playing  in  the  last 
piece.;  and,  as  it  was  a  benefit  night,  tlie  perform- 
ances had  been  protracted  to  an  unusual  length. 
It  was  a  dark  cold  night,  with  a  chill  damp  wind, 
which  blew  the  rain  heavily  against  the  windows  and 
house-fronts.  Pools  of  water  had  collected  in  the 
narrow  and  little-frequented  streets,  and  as  many 
of  the  thinly-scattered  oil-lamps  had  been  blown 
out  by  the  violence  of  the  wind,  the  walk  was  not 
only  a  comfortless,  but  most  uncertain  one.  I  had 
fortunately  taken  the  right  course,  however,  and 
45ucceeded,  after  a  little  difficulty,  in  finding  the 
house  to  which  I  had  been  directed — a  co.al  shed, 
with  one  story  above  it,  in  the  back  room  of  which 
lay  the  object  of  my  search. 

."A  wretched-looking  woman,  the  man's  wife, 
met  me  on  the  stairs,  and,  telling  me  that  he  had 
just  fajlen  into  a  kind  of  doze,  led  me  softly  in,  and 
placed  a  chair  for  me  at  the  bed-side.  The  sick 
man  was  lying  with  his  face  turned  towards  the 
wall;  and  as  he  took  no  heed  of  my  presence,  I  had 
leisure  to  observe  the  place  in  which  I  found  my- 
self. 

"He  was  lying  on  an  old  bedstead  which  turned 
«p  during  the  day.  The  tattered  remains  of  a 
♦checked  curtain  were  drawn  round  the  bed's  head, 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  63 

to  exclude  the  wind,  which  however  niadc  its  way 
into  the  comfortless  room  through  the  numerous 
chinks  in  the  door,  and  blew  it  to  and  fro  every  in- 
stant. There  was  a  low  cinder-fire  in  a  rusty  un- 
fixed grate;  and  an  old  three-cornered  stained  table, 
with  some  medicine-bottles,  a  broken  glass,  and  a 
few  other  domestic  articles,  was  drawn  out  before 
it.  A  little  child  was  sleeping  on  a  temporary  bed 
which  had  been  made  for  it  on  the  floor,  and  the 
woman  sat  on  a  chair  by  its  side.  There  were  a 
couple  of  shelves,  with  a  few  plates  and  cups  and 
saucers:  and  a  pair  of  stage  shoes  and  a  couple  of 
foils  hung  beneath  them.  With  the  exception  of 
little  heaps  of  rags  and  bundles  which  had  been 
carelessly  thrown  into  the  corners  of  the  room, 
these  were  the  only  things  in  the  apartment. 

"  I  had  had  time  to  note  these  little  particulars, 
and  to  mark  the  heavy  breathing  and  feverish  start- 
ings  of  the  sick  man,  before  he  was  aware  of  my 
presence.  In  his  restless  attempts  to  procure  some 
easy  resting-place  for  his  head,  he  tossed  his  hand 
out  of  the  bed,  and  it  fell  on  mine.  He  started 
up,  and  stared  eagerly  in  my  face. 

'"Mr.  Hutley,  John,'  said  his  wife;  *Mr.  Hut- 
ley,  that  you  sent  for  to-night,  you  know.' 

'"Ah  !'  said  the  invalid,  passing  his  hand  across 
his  forehead  ;  '  Hutley — Hutley — let  me  see.'  He 
seemed  endeavouring  to  collect  his  thoughts  for  a 
few  seconds,  and  then  grasping  me  tightly  by  the 
wrist,  said,  '  Don't  leave  me — don't  leave  me,  old 
fellow.     She'll  murder  me;  I  know  she  will.' 

"'Has  he  been  long  so?'  said  I,  addressing  his 
weeping  wife. 

"  '  Since  yesterday  night,'  she  replied.  '  John, 
John,  don't  you  know  me? 

''Don't  let  her  come  near  me,'  said  the  man, 
with  a  shudder,  as  she  stooped  over  him.  '  Drive 
her  away;  I  can't  bear  her  near  me.'     Ha  stared 


64  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

wildly  at  her,  with  a  look  of  deadly  apprehension, 
and  then  whispered  in  my  ear,  "I  beat  her,  Jenn; 
I  beat  her  yesterday  and  many  times  before.  1 
have  starved  her  and  the  boy  too;  and  now  I  am 
weak  and  helpless,  Jem,  she'll  murder  me  for  it;  I 
know  she  will.  If  you'd  seen  her  cry,  as  I  have, 
you'd  know  it  too.  Keep  her  off.'  He  relaxed 
his  grasp,  and  sunk  back  exhausted  on  the  pillow. 

"I  knew  but  too  well  what  all  this  meant.  If  I 
could  have  entertained  any  doubt  of  it  for  one  in- 
stant, one  glance  at  the  woman's  pale  face  and 
wasted  form  would  have  sufticiently  explained  the 
real  state  of  the  case.  'You  had  better  stand 
aside,'  said  I  to  the  poor  creature.  '  You  can  do 
him  no  good.  Perhaps  he  will  be  calmer,  if  he 
does  not  see  you.'  She  retired  out  of  the  man's 
sight.  He  opened  his  eyes,  after  a  few  seconds, 
and  looked  anxiously  round. 

" '  Is  she  gone  V  he  eagerly  inquired. 

Yes — yes,'  said  1;  she  shall  not  hurt  you.' 
I'll  tell  you  what,  Jem,'  said  the  man,  in  a 
low  voice,  'she  does  hurt  me.  There's  something 
in  her  eyes  wakes  such  a  dreadful  fear  in  my  heart, 
that  it  drives  me  mad.  All  last  night,  her  large 
staring  eyes  and  pale  face  were  close  to  mine  ; 
wherever  I  turned,  they  turned;  and  whenever  I 
started  up  from  my  sleep,  she  was  at  the  bed-side 
looking  at  me.'  He  drew  me  closer  to  him,  as  he 
said  in  a  deep,  alarmed  whisper — '  Jem,  she  must 
be  an  evil  spirit— a  devil !'  Hush  !  I  know  she 
is.  If  she  had  been  a  woman,  she  would  have 
died  long  ago.  No  woman  could  have  borne  what 
she  has." 

"  I  sickened  at  the  thought  of  the  long  course 
of  cruelty  and  neglect  which  must  have  occurred 
to  produce  such  an  impression  on  such  a  man,  I 
could  say  nothing  in  reply;  for  who  could  offei' 


THE  PICKWICK  CtUB.  65 

hope,  or  consolation,  to  tlie   abject  being  before 
nne? 

"I  sat  there  for  upwards  of  two  hours,  during 
which  time  he  tossed  about,  murmuring  exclama- 
tions of  pain  or  impatience,  restlessly  throwing  his 
arms  here  and  there,  and  turning  constantly  from 
side  to  side.  At  length  he  fell  into  that  state  of 
partial  unconsciousness,  in  which  the  mind  wan- 
ders uneasily  from  scene  to  scene,  and  from  place 
to  place,  without  the  control  of  reason,  but  still 
without  being  able  to  divest  itself  of  an  indescriba- 
ble sense  of  present  suffering,  Finding,  from  his 
incoherent  wanderings  that  this  was  trie  case,  and 
knowing  that  in  all  probability  the  fever  would 
not  grow  immediately  worse,  1  left  him,  promising 
his  miserable  wife  that  I  would  repeat  my  visit 
next  evening,  and  if  necessary  sit  up  with  the 
patient  during  the  night.  - 

"  1  kept  my  promise.  The  last  four  and  twen- 
ty hours  had  produced  a  frightful  altt^ration.  The 
eyes,  though  deeply  sunk  and  heavy,  shone  with  a 
lustre,  frightful  to  behold.  The  lips  were  parched, 
and  cracked  in  many  places:  the  dry  hard  skin 
glowed  with  a  burning  heat,  and  there  was  an  al- 
most unearthly  air  of  wild  anxiety  in  the  man's 
face,  indicating  even  more  strongly  the  ravages  of 
the  disease.     The  fever  was  at  its  height-   - 

"  I  took  the  seat  I  hadoecnpied  the-night  before, 
and  there  I  sat  for  hours  listening  to  sounds  which 
must  strike  deep  to  the  heart  of  the  most  callous 
among  human  beings — the  awful  ravings  of  a  dy- 
ing man.  From  what  I  had  heard  of  the  medical 
attendant's  opinion,  I  knew  there  was  no  hope  for 
him:  I  was  sitting  by  his?  death-bed.  I  saw  the 
wasted  limbs  which  a  few  hours  before  hati'  been 
distorted  for  the  amuser/ient  of  a  boisterous  gallery, 
writhing  under  the  tortures^ of  a  burning  feveir^—l 


^Q  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

heard  the  clown's  shrill  laugh  blending  with  the 
low  murmurings  of  the  dying  man. 

"  It  is  a  touching  thing  to  hear  the  mind  revert- 
ing to  the  ordinary  occupations  and  pursuits  of 
health  when  the  body  lies  before  you  weak  and 
helpless ;  but  when  those  occupations  are  of  a  cha- 
racter the  most  strongly  opposed  to  any  thing  we 
associate  with  grave  or  solemn  ideas,  the  impres- 
sion produced  is  intinitely  more  powerful.  The 
theatre,  and  the  public-house  were  the  chief  themes 
of  the  wretched  man's  wanderings.  It  was  even- 
ing, he  fancied ;  he  had  a  part  to  play  that  night ; 
it  was  late,  and  he  must  leave  home  instantly. 
Why  did  they  hold  him,  and  prevent  his  going — he 
should  lose  the  money — he  must  go.  No  !  they 
would  not  let  him.  He  hid  his  face  in  his  bur^ning 
hands,  and  feebly  bemoaned  his  own  weakness, 
and  the  cruelly  of  his  persecutors.  A  short  pause, 
and  he  shouted  out  a  few  doggerel  rhymes— the 
last  he  had  ever  learned.  He  rose  in  bed,  drew  up 
his  withered  limbs,  and  rolled  about  in  uncouth 
positions;  he  was  acting — he  was  at  the  theatre. 
A  minute's  silence,  and  he  murmured  the  burden 
of  some  roaring  song.  He  had  reached  the  old 
house  at  last;  how^  hot  the  room  was.  He  had 
been  ill,  very  ill;  but  he  was  well  now,  and  happy. 
Fill  up  his  glass.  Who  was  that,  that  dashed  it 
from  his  lips?  It  was  the  same  persecutor  that 
had  followed  him  before.  He  fell  back  upon  his 
pillow  and  moaned  aloud.  A  short  period  of  ob- 
livion, and  he  was  wandering  Ihrougii  a  tedious 
maze  of  low  arched  rooms — so  low,  sometimes, 
that  he  must  creep  upon  his  hands  and  knees  to 
make  his  way  along;  it  was  close  and  dark — and 
every  way  he  turned,  some  obstacle  impeded  his 
progress.  There  were  insects  too;  hideous  crawl- 
ing things,  with  eyes  that  stared  upon  him,  and 
filled    the   very    air   around:   glistening    horribly 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  67 

amidst  the  thick  darkness  of  the  place.  The  walls 
and  ceiling  were  alive  with  reptiles — the  vault  ex- 
panded to  an  enormous  size — frightful  figures  flitted 
to  and  fro — and  the  faces  of  men  he  knew,  ren- 
dered hideous  by  gibing  and  mouthing,  peered  out 
from  among  them  ;  they  were  searing  him  with 
heated  irons,  and  binding  his  head  with  cords  till 
the  blood  started ;  and  he  struggled  madlv  for 
life. 

"  At  the  close  of  one  of  these  paroxysm,  wheii- 
I  had  with  great  difficulty  held  him  down  in  his 
bed,  he  sank  into  what  appeared  to  be  a  slumber. 
Overpowered  with  watching  and  exertion,  I  had 
closed  my  eyes  for  a  few  minutes,  when  I  felt  a 
violent  clutch  on  my  shoulder.  I  awoke  instantly. 
He  had  raised  himself  up,  so  as  to  seat  himself  in 
bed — a  dreadful  change  had  come  over  his  face, 
but  consciousness  had  returned,  for  he  evidently 
knew  me.  The  child,  who  had  been  long  since 
disturbed  by  his  ravings,  rose  from  its  little  bed, 
and  ran  towards  its  father,  screaming  with  fright 
— the  mother  hastily  caught  it  in  her  arms,  lest  he 
should  injure  it  in  (he  violence  of  his  insanity  ;  but, 
terrified  by  the  alteration  of  his  features,  stood 
transfixed  by  the  bed-side.  He  grasped  my  shoul- 
der convulsively  ;  and  striking  his  breast  with  the 
other  hand,  made  a  desperate  attempt  to  articu- 
late. It  was  unavailing;  he  extended  his  arm  to- 
wards them,  and  made  another  violent  efibrt. 
There  was  a  rattling  noise  in  the  throat — a  glare 
of  the  eve — a  short  stifled  groan — and  he  fell  back 
—dead!" 


It  would  afford  us  the  highest  gratification  to  be 
enabled  to  record  Mr.  Pickwick's  opinion  of  the 
foregoing  anecdote.  We  have  little  doubt  that  we 
should  have  been  enabled  to  present  it  to  our  read- 
ers, but  for  a  most  unlbrtunate  occurrence. 


08  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

Mri  Pickwick  had  replaced  on  tlie  (able  the 
glass  which,  during  the  last  few  sentences  of  the 
tale,  he  had  retained  in  his  hand ;  and  had  just 
made  up  his  mind  to  speak — indeed  we  have  the 
authority  of  Mr.  Snodgrass's  note-book  for  stating, 
that  he  had  actually  opened  his  mouth — when  the 
Vv'aiter  entered  the  room,  and  said — 

"Some  gentlemen,  sir." 

It  has  been  conjectured  that  Mr.  Pickwick  was 
on  the  point  of  delivering  some  remarks  which 
would  have  enlightened  the  world,  if  not  the 
Thames,  when  he  was  thus  interrupted :  for  he  gazed 
sternly  on  the  waiter's  countenance,  and  then  look- 
ed round  on  the  company  generally,  as  if  seeking 
for  information  relative  to  the  new  comers. 

"  Oh  I"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  rising,  "  some  friends 
of  mine — show  them  in.  Very  pleasant  fellows," 
added  Mr.  Winkle,  after  the  waiter  had  retired — 
"  Officers  of  the  97th,  whose  acquaintance  I  made 
rather  oddly  this  morning.  You  will  like  them 
very  much.'' 

Mr.  Pickwick's  equanimity  was  at  once  re- 
stored. The  waiter  returned,  and  ushered  three 
gentlemen  into  the  room. 

"  Lieutenant  Tappleton,  said  Mr.  Winkle,  "Lieu- 
tenant Tappleton,  Mr.  Pickwick — Doctor  Payne, 
Mr.  Pickwick — Mr.  Snodgrass,  you  have  seen  be- 
fore: my  friend  Mr.  Tupman,  Doctor  Payne — 
Doctor  Slammer,  Mr.  Pickwick — Mr.  Tupman, 
Doctor  Slam '? 

Here  Mr.  Winkle  suddenly  paused  ;  for  strong 
emotion  was  visible  on  the  countenance  both  of 
Mr.  Tupman,  and  the  Doctor. 

"I  have  mci  this  gentleman  before,"  said  the 
Doctor  with  marked  emphasis.    . 

«'  Indeed  !"  said  Mr.  Winkle. . 

'*  And — and  th«t  person,  too,  if  I  am  not  mis- 
taken, said  the  Doctor,  bestowing  a  scrutinizing 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  6& 

glance  on  the  green-coated  stranger.  "I  think  I 
gave  that  person  a  very  pressing  invitation  last 
night,  which  he  thought  proper  to  decline."  Say- 
ing which,  the  Doctor  scowled  magnanimously  on 
the  stranger,  and  whispered  his  friend  Lieutenant- 
Tappleton. 

"You  don't  say  so,"  said  that  gentleman,  at  the 
conclusion  of  the  whisper. 

"  I  do,  indeed,"  replied  Doctor  Slammer. 

"You  are  bound  to  kick  him  on  the  spot,"  mur- 
mured the  owner  of  the  camp  stool,  wiih  great 
importance. 

" /)o  be  quiet,  Payne,"  interposed  the  Lieute- 
nant.    "Will  you  allow  me  to  ask  you,  sir,"  he 
said,  addressing  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  was  conside-, 
rably  mystified    by  this  very  unpolite  by-play — -. 
"  Will  you  allow  me  to  ask  you,  sir,  whether  that, 
person  belongs  to  your  party?" 

"  No,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  he  is  a  guest- 
of  ours." 

"He  is  a  member  of  your  club,  or  I  am  mis--- 
taken?"  said  the  lieutenant,  inquiringly. 

"  Certainly  not,"  responded  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  And  never  wears  your  club-button?"  said  the 
Lieutenant. 

"No — never!'  replied  the  astonished  Mr.  Pick-, 
wick. 

Lieutenant  Tappleton  turned  round  to  his  friend 
Doctor  Slammer,  with  a  scarcely  perceptible  shrug 
of  the  shoulder,  as  if  implying  some  doubt  of  the 
accuracy  of  his  recollection.  The  little  Doctor 
looked  wrathful,  but  confounded;  and  Mr.  Payne 
gazed  with  a  ferocious  aspect  on  the  beaming  . 
countenance  of  the  unconscious  Pickwick. 

"  Sir,"  said  the  Doctor,  suddenly  addressing 
Mr.  Tupman,  in  a  tone  which  made  that  gentle- 
man start  as  perceptibly  as  if  a  pin  had  been  cun-  - 


70  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

ninglj  inserted  in  the  calf  of  his  leg — "you  were 
at  the  ball  here  last  night?' 

Mr.  Tupman  gasped  a  faint  affirmative ;  look- 
ing very  hard  at  Mr.  Pickwick  all  the  while. 

"  That  person  was  your  companion, '^  said  the 
Doctor,  pointing  to  the  still  unmoved  stranger. 

Mr.  Tupman  admitted  ihe  fact. 

*'No\v,  sir,"  said  tlie  Doctor  to  the  stranger,  "I 
ask  you  once  again,  in  the  presence  of  these  gen- 
tlemen, whether  you  choose  to  give  me  your  card, 
and  to  receive  the  treatment  of  a  gentleman ;  or 
whether  you  impose  upon  me  the  necessity  of  per- 
sonally chastising  you  on  the  spot. 

"  Stay,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  really  I  can- 
not allow  this  matter  to  go  any  farther  w'ithout 
some  explanation,-  Tupman,  recount  the  circum- 
stances.'^ 

Mr.  Tupman,  thus  solemnly  adjured,  stated  the 
case  in  a  few  words;  touched  slightly  on  the  bor- 
rowing of  the  coat ;  expatiated  largely  on  its  havins; 
been  done  "  after  dinner ;"  wound  up  with  a  little 
penitence  on  his  own  account;  and  left  the  stranger 
to  clear  himself  as  he  best  could. 

He  was  apparently  about  to  proceed  to  do  so, 
when  Lieutenant  Tappleton,  who  had  been  eyeirkg 
him  with  great  curiosity,  said  witli  considerable 
scorn — "Haven't  I  seen  you  at  the  theatre,  sir?" 

"Certainly,"  replied  the  unabashed  stranger. 

"He  is  a  strolling  actor,"  said  the  lieutenant 
contemptuously:  turning  to  Dr.  Slammer — "He 
acts  in  the  piece  that  the  officers  of  the  52nd  get 
up  at  the  llochcster  theatre  to-morrow  night.  You 
cannot  proceed  in  this  afljiir,  Slamm.er— imnossi- 
ble!" 

"Quite!"  said  the  dignified  Payne. 

"Sorry  to  have  placed  you  in  this  disagreeable 
situation,"  said  Lieutenant  Tappleton,  addressing 
Mr.  Pickwick,  "allow  me  to  suggest, that  the  best 
Wiiy  of  avoiding   a    recurrence  of   such    scenes: 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  71 

in  future,  will  be  to  be  more  select  in  the  choice 
of  your  companions.  Good  evening,  sir  !"  and  the 
lieutenant  bounced  out  of  the  room. 

"And  allow  me  to  say,  sir,"  said  the  irascible 
Doctor  Payne,  "  that  if  I  had  been  Tappleton,  or 
if  I  had  been  Slammer,  I  would  have  pulled  your 
nose,  sir,  and  the  nose  of  every  man  in  this  com- 
pany. I  would,  sir, — every  man.  Payne  is  my 
name,  sir — Doctor  Payne  of  the  43rd.  Good  even- 
ing, sir."  Having  concluded  this  speech,  and  ut- 
tered the  three  last  words  in  a  loud  key,  he  stalked 
majestically  after  his  friend,  closely  followed  by 
Doctor  Slammer,  who  said  nothing,  but  contented 
himself  by  withering  the  company  with  a  look. 

Rising  "rage  and  extreme  bewilderment  had 
swelled  the  noble  breast  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  almost 
to  the  bursting  of  his  waistcoat,  during  the  delivery 
of  the  above  detiance.  He  stood  transfixed  to  the 
spot,  gazing  on  vacancy.  The  closing  of  the  door 
recalled  him  to  himself.  Pie  rushed  forward  with 
fury  in  his  looks,  and  fire  in  his  eye.  His  hand 
was  upon  the  lock  of  the  door;  in  another  instant 
it  would  have  been  on  the  throat  of  Doctor  Payne 
of  the  43rd,  had  not  Mr,  Snodgrass  seized  his  re- 
vered leader  by  the  coat  tail,  and  dragged  him 
backwards. 

"Restrain  him,"  cried  Mr.  Snodgrass,  "Winkle, 
Tupm'an — he  must  not  peril  his  distinguished  life  in 
such  a  cause  as  this." 

"  Let  me  go,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Hold  him  tight,"  shouted  Mr.  Snodgrass;  and 
by  the  united  efforts  of  the  whole  company,  Mr. 
Pickwick  was  forced  into  an  arm  chair. 

"  Leave  him  alone,"  said  the  green- coated  stran- 
ger— "  brandy  and  water — jolly  old  gentleman — 
lots  of  pluck — swallow  tliis — ah  ! — capital  stuff." 
Having  previously  tested  the  virtues  of  a  bumper, 
which   had  been  mixed  by  the  dismal  man,  the 


"72  rosTHUxMOUs  papers  of 

stranger  applied  the  glass  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  mouth; 
and  the  remainder  of  its  contents  rapidly  disap- 
peared. 

There  was  a  short  pause ;  the  brandy  and  wa- 
ter had  done  its  work  ;  the  amiable  countenance  of 
Mr.  Pickwick  was  fast  recovering  its  customary 
•expression. 

"■  They  are  not  w^ortb  your  notice,"  said  the  dis- 
mal man. 

"  You  are  right,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick, 
"  they  are  not.  I  am  ashamed  to  have  been  be- 
trayed into  this  warmth  of  feeling.  Draw  your 
chair  up  to  the  table,  sir." 

The  dismal  man  readily  complied;  a  circle  was 
again  formed  ^round  the  table,  and  harmony  once 
more  prevailed.  Some  lingering  irritability  ap- 
peared to  find  a  resting  place  in  Mr.  Winkle's 
bosom,  occasioned  possibly  by  the  temporary  ab- 
straction of  bis  coat — though  it  is  scarcely  reason- 
able to  suppose,  that  so  slight  a  circumstance  can 
have  excited  even  a  passing  feeling  of  anger  in  a 
Pickwickian  breast.  With  this  exception,  their 
good  humour  was  completely  restored ;  and  the 
evening  concluded  with  the  convivality  with  which 
It  had  begun. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  73 


CHAPTEtl  IV. 


A  FIELD-DAY  AND  BIVOUAC MORE  NEW  FRIENDS;  AND 

AN  INVITATION  TO   THE  COUNTRY. 

Many  authors  entertain,  not  only  a  foolish,  but 
a  really  dishonest  objection,  to  acknowledge  the 
sources  from  whence  they  derive  much  valuable 
information.  We  have  no  such  feeling.  We  are 
merely  endeavouring  to  discharge  in  an  upric^ht 
manner,  the  responsible  duties  of  our  editorial 
functions;  and  whatever  ambition  we  might  have 
Jelt  under  other  circumstances,  to  lay  claim  to  tbe 
authorship  of  these  adventures,  a  regard  for  truth 
forbids  us  to  do  more,  than  claim  the  merit  of  their 
judicious  arrangement,  and  impartial  narration. 
The  Pickwick  papers  are  our  New  River  Head ; 
and  we  maybe  compared  to  the  New  River  Com- 
pany. The  labours  of  others,  have  raised  for  us 
an  immense  reservoir  of  important  facts.  We 
merely  lay  them,  on,  and  communicate  them  in  a 
clear  and  gentle  stream,  through  the  medium  of 
these  numbers,  to  a  world  thirsting  for  Pickwickian 
knowledge. 

Acting  in  this  spirit,  and  resolutely  proceeding 
on  our  determination  to  avow  our  obligations  to 
tlie  authorities  we  have  consulted,  we  frankly  say, 
that  to  the  note  book  of  Mr.  Snodgrass  are  we  in- 
debted for  the  particulars  recorded  in  this  and  the 
succeeding  chapter — particulars,  which,  now  that 
we  have  disburdened  our  conscience,  we  shall  pro- 
ceed to  detail  without  farther  comment. 

The  whole  population  of  Rochester,  and  the  ad- 
■7 


74  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

joining  towns,  rose  from  their  beds  at  an  early  hour 
of  the  following  morning,  in  a  state  of  the  utmost 
bustle  and  excitement.  A  grand  review  was  to  take 
place  upon  the  lines.  The  manoeuvres  of  half  a 
dozen  regiments  were  to  be  inspected  by  the  eagle 
eye  of  the  commander-in-chief;  temporary  fortifica- 
tions had  been  erected,  the  citadel  was  to  be  at- 
tacked and  taken,  and  a  mine  was  to  be  sprung. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was,  as  our  readers  may  have 
gathered  from  the  slight  extract  we  gave  from  his 
description  of  Chatham,  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of 
the  army.  Nothing  could  have  been  more  de- 
lightful to  him — nothing  could  have  harmonized  so 
well  with  the  peculiar  feeling  of  each  of  his  com- 
panions— as  this  sight.  Accordingly  they  were 
soon  a-foot,  and  walking  in  the  direction  of  the 
scene  of  action,  towards  which  crowds  of  people 
w^ere  already  pouring,  from  a  variety  of  quarters. 

The  appearance  of  every  thing  on  the  lines,  de- 
noted that  the  approaching  ceremony  was  one  of  the 
utmost  grandeur  and  importance.  There  were 
sentries  posted  to  keep  the  ground  for  the  troops, 
and  servants  on  the  batteries  keeping  places  for 
the  ladies,  and  sergeants  running  to  and  fro,  with 
vellum  covered  books  under  their  arnis,  and  Colo- 
nel Bulder,  in  full  military  uniform,  on  horseback, 
galloping  first  to  one  place  and  then  to  another, and 
backing  his  horse  am.ong  the  people,  and  prancing, 
and  curvetting,  and  shouting  in  a  most  alarming 
manner,  and  making  himself  very  hoarse  in  the 
voice,  and  very  red  in  tlie  face,  without  any  as- 
signable cause  or  reason  whatever.  Ofiiccrs  were 
running  backwards  and  forwards,  first  commnni- 
cating  with  Co'onel  Bulder,  and  then  ordering  the 
sergeants,  and  then  running  away  altogether:  and 
even  the  very  privates  themiselves  looked  from  be- 
hind their  glazed  stocks  with  an  air  of  mysterious 
solemnity,  which  sufficiently  bespoke  the  special 
nature  of  the  occasion. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  7£) 

Mi%  Pickwick  and  his  three  companions  station- 
ed themseivcs  in  the  front  rank  of  the  crowd,  and 
patiently  awaited  the  comn^iencement  of  the  pro- 
ceedings. The  throng  was  increasing  every  nao- 
ment;  and  the  efforts  they  were  compelled  to  make, 
to  retain  th.e  position  they  had  gained,  sufficiently 
occupied  their  attention  during  the  two  hours  that 
ensued.  At  one  time  there  was  a  sudden  pressure 
from  behind;  and  thcnlSIr.Pickwick  was  jerked  for- 
ward for  several  yards,  with  a  degree  of  speed  and 
elasticity  highly  inconsistent  with  the  general  gra- 
vity of  his  dismeanour ;  at  another  moment  there 
was  a  request  to  "  keep  back"  from  the  front,  and 
then  the  butt  end  of  a  musket  v;ns  either  dropped 
upon  Mr.  Pickwick's  toe,  to  remind  him  of  the  de- 
mand, or  thrust  into  his  chest  to  ensure  its  being- 
complied  with.  .  Then  some  f^icetious  gentlemen  on 
the  left,  after  pressing  sideways  in  a  body,  and 
squeezing  Mr.  Snodgrass  into  the  very  last  extreme 
of  human  torture,  would  request  to  know"  verehe 
vos  a  slsovin'  to,"  and  wdien  Mr.  Winkle  had  done 
expressing  his  excessive  indignation  at  witnessing 
this  unprovoked  assault,  some  person  behind  v^'ould 
knock  his  hat  over  his  eyes,  and  beg  the  favour  of 
his  putting  his  head  in  his  pocket.  These,  and 
other  practical  witticisms,  coupled  with  the  unac- 
countable absence  of  Mr.  Tupman  (who  had  sud- 
denly di.^appeared,  and  was  no  where  to  be  found,) 
rendered  their  situation  upon  the  whole  rather  more 
uncomfortable,  than  pleasing  or  desirable. 

At  length  that  low  roar  of  many  voices  ran 
through  the  crowd,  which  usually  announces  the 
arrival  of  whatever  they  have  been  waiting  for. 
All  eyes  were  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  sally- 
port. A  few  moments  of  eager  expectation,  and 
colours  were  seen  fluttering  gaily  in  the  air,  arms 
glistened  brightly  in  the  sun  :  column  after  column 
poured,  an  to  the  plain.     The  troops  halted  and. 


76  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

formed;  the  word  of  command  rung  through  the 
line,  there  was  a  general  clash  of  muskets,  as  arms 
were  presented ;  and  tlie  commander-in-chief,  at- 
tended by  Colonel  Bulder  and  numerous  olhcers, 
cantered  to  the  front.  The  military  bands  struck 
up  ahogether:  the  horses  stood  upon  tw^o  legs  each, 
cantered  backwards,  and  whisked  their  tails  about 
in  all  directions:  the  dogs  barked,  the  mob  scream- 
ed, the  troops  recovered,  and  nothing  was  to  be 
seen  on  either  side,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach, 
but  a  long  perspective  of  red  coats  and  white 
trousers,  fixed  and  motionless. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  been  so  fully  occupied  in  fall- 
ing about  and  disentangling  himself,  miraculously, 
from  betvv^een  the  legs  of  horses,  that  he  had  not 
enjoyed  sufficient  leisure  to  observe  the  scene  be- 
fore him  until  it  assumed  the  appearance  we  have 
just  described.  When  he  was  at  last  enabled  to 
stand  firmly  on  his  legs,  his  gratification  and  de- 
light were  unbounded. 

"Can  any  thing  be  finer,  or  more  delightful?' 
he  inquired  of  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  Nothing,"  replied  that  gentleman,  who  had  had 
a  short  man  standing  on  each  of  his  (cct,  for  the 
quarter  of  an  hour  in}mediatcly  preceding. 

"It  is  indeed  a  noble  and  brilliant  sight,"  said 
Mr.  Snodgrass,  in  whose  bosom  a  blaze  of  poetry 
was  rapidly  bursting  forth,  "  to  see  the  gallant  de- 
fenders of  their  country,  drawn  up  in  brilliant  ar- 
ray before  its  peaceful  citizens:  their  faces  beam- 
ing— not  with  warlike  ferocity,  but  w^ith  civilized 
gentleness:  their  eyes  flashing — not  with  the  rude 
fire  of  rapine  or  revenge,  but  with  the  soft  light  of 
humanity  and  intelligence." 

"  Mr.  Pickwick  fully  entered  into  the  spirit  of  this 
eulogium,  but  he  could  not  exactly  re-echo  its 
terms;  for  the  soft  light  of  intelligence  burnt  rather 
feebly  in  the  eyes  of  the  warriors,  inasnriuch  as  the. 


THE  PICKWICK  club;-  77 

command  "eyes  front"  had  been  given;  and  all 
the  spectator  saw  before  him  was  several  thou- 
sand pair  of  optics,  staring  straight  forward,  wholly 
divested  of  any  expression  whatever. 

"  We  are  in  a  capita]  situation,  now,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  looking  round  him.  The  crowd'  had 
gradually  dispersed  from  their  immediate  vicinity, 
and  they  w^ere  nearly  alone. 

"Capital!"  echoed  both  Mr.  Snodgrass  and 
Mr.  Winkle. 

"What  are  they  doing  now?'  inquired  Mr. 
Pickwick,  adjusting  his  spectacles. 

"  I — I  rather  think,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  changing 
colour — "1  rather  Ihink  they're  going  to  fire." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  hastily. 

"  I — I— really  think  they  are,"  urged  Mr.  Snod- 
grass, somewhat  alarmed. 

"Impossible,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  He  had 
hardly  uttered  the  word,  when  the  whole  half  dozen, 
regiments  levelled  their  muskets  as  if  they  had  but 
one  common  object,  and  that  object  the  Pickwick- 
ians;  and  burst  forth  with  the  most  awful  and  tre- 
mendous discharge,  that  ever  shook  the  earth  to  its 
centre,  or  an  elderly  gentleman  oft'  his. 

It  was  in  this  trying  situation,  exposed  to  a 
galling  fire  of  blank  cartridges,  and  harassed  bj 
the  operations  of'  the  military,  a  fresh  body  of 
whom  had  begun  to  faH  in,  on  the  opposite,  side, 
that  Mr.  Pickwick  displayed  that  perfect  coolness 
and  self-possession,  which  are  the  indispensable  ac- 
companiments of  a  great  mind.  He  seized  Mr. 
Winkle  by  the  arm,  and  placing  himself  between 
that  gentleman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass,  earnestly  be- 
sought them  to  remember  that  beyond  the  possi- 
bility of  being  rendered  deaf  by  the  noise,  there 
was  no  immediate  danger  to  be  apprehended  from- 
the  firing. 

it'But^ — but— suppose  some  of  the  men  should 
7* 


78  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  or^ 

happen  to  have  ball  cartridges  by  mi.'^take,"  re-- 
monstrated  Mr.  Winkle,  pallid  at  the  supposition  ^ 
he  was  himself  conjuring  up.     "  I  heard  something 
whistle  through  the  air  just  now — so  sharp:  close 
to  my  ear.'' 

"  We  had  better  throw  ourselves  on  our  faces, 
hadn't  weT"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

''No,  no— it's  over  now,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
His  lip  might  quiver,  and  his  cheek  might  blanch, 
but  no  expression  of  fear  or  concern  escaped  the 
lips  of  that  immortal  man. 

Mr.  Pickwick  w^as  right;  the  firing:  ceased :  but 
he  had  scarcely  time  to  congratulate  himself  on 
the  accuracy  of  his.  opinion,  when  a  quick  move- 
ment was  visible  in  4he].ine:  the  hoarse  shout  of 
the  word  of  com.ma'nd>  ran  along  it — and  before 
either  of  the  party  could  form  a  guess  a  I  the  meaning 
of  this  new  mancKuvre,  the  wd^ole  of  the  half  dozen 
regiments,  with  fixed  bayonets,  charged  at  double 
quick  time  down  upon  the  very  spot  on  which  Mr. 
Pickwick  and  his  friends  were  stationed. 

Man  is  but  mortal ;  and  "there  is  a  point  beyond 
which  human  courage  cannot  extend.  Mr.  Pick- 
wick gazed  through  his  spectacles  for  an  instant  on 
the  advancing  mass;  and  then  fairly  turned  his 
back,  and — we  will  not  say  fled;  first,  because  it 
is  aii  ignoble  term,  and,  secondly,  because  Mr. 
Pickwick's  figure  was  by  no  m.eans  adapted  for 
that  mode  of  retreat — he  trotted  away,  at  as  quick 
a  rate  as  his  legs  would  convey  him;  so  quickly, 
indeed,  that  he  did  not  perceive  the  awkwardness 
of  his  situation,  to  the. full  extent,  until  too  late. 

The  opposite  troops,  whose  falling  in  had  per- 
plexed Mr.  Pickwick  a  few  seconds  before,  were 
drawn  up  to  repel  the  mimic- attack  of  the  sham 
besiegers  of  the  citadel ;  .  and  the  consequence 
w^as,  that  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  two  companions 
faund  themselves  suddenly^ enclosed,  between  two 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  79 

lines  of  great  length;  the  one  advancuig  at  a  rapid 
pace,  and  the  other  tirmly  waiting  the  colHsion  in 
hostile  array. 

"Hoi!"  shouted  the  officers  of  the  advancinn- 
line. 

"Get  out  of  the  way,"  cried  the  officers  of  the 
stationary  one. 

"Where  are  we  to  go  to!"  s-creamed  the  agi- 
tated Pickwickians. 

"Hoi — hoi — hoi,"  was  the  only  reply.  There 
was  a  moment  of  intense  bewilderment,  a  heavy 
tramp  of  footsteps,  a  violent  concussion,  a  smo- 
thered laugh — the  half  dozen  regiments  were  half 
a  thousand  yards  OiT;  and  the  soles  of  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's boots  were  elevated  in  the  air. 

Mr.  Snodgrass  and  Mtr- Winkle  had  each  per- 
formed a  compulsory  somerset  with  remarkable 
agility,  when  the  first  object  that  met  the  eyes  of 
the  latter  as  he  sat  on  the  ground,  stanching  with  a 
yellow  silk  handkerchief  the  stream  of  life  which 
issued  from  his  nose,  was  his  venerated  leader  at 
some  distance  off,  running  after  his  own  haf, 
which  was  gambolling  playfuHy  away  in  perspec- 
tive. 

There  are  very  few  moments  in  a  man's  exist- 
ence, when  he  experiences  so  much  ludicrous  dis- 
tress, or  meets  with  so  little  charitable  commisera- 
tion, as  when  he  is  in  pursuit  of  his  own  hat.  A 
vast  deal  of  coolness,  and  a  peculiar  degree  of 
judgment,  are  requisite  in  catching  a  hat.  A  man 
must  not  be  precipitate,  or  he  runs  over  it :  he  must 
not  rush  into  the  opposite  extreme,  or  he  loses  it 
altogether.  The  best  way  is,  to  keep  gently  up 
with  the  object  of  pursuit,  to  be  wary  and  cau- 
tious, to  watch  your  opportunity  well,  get  gradu- 
ally before  it — and  then  make  a  rapid  dive,  seize 
it  by  the  crown,  and  stick  it  firmly  on  your  head  ; 


80  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

smiling  pleasantly  all  the  lime,  as  if  you  thought 
it  as  good  a  joke  as  any  body  else. 

There  was  a  fine  gentle  wind,  and  JMr.  Pick- 
wick's hat  rolled  sportively  before  it.  The  wind 
puffed,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  puffed,  and  the  hat  rolled 
over  and  over  as  merrily  as  a  lively  porpoise  in  a 
strong  tide;  and  on  it  might  have  rolled,  far  be- 
yond Mr.  Pickwick's  reach,  had  not  its  course 
been  providentially  stopped,  just  as  that  gentle- 
man was  on.  the  point  of  resigning  it  to  its  fate. 

Mr.  Pickwick,  we  say,  was  completely  exhaust- 
ed, and  about  to  give  up  the  chase,  when  the  hat 
W'as  blowMi  with  some  violence  against  the  wheel 
of  a  carriage,  which  was  drawn  up  in  a  line  with 
half-a-dozen  other  vehicles  on  the  spot  to  which 
his  steps  had  been  dii'ected.  JNIr.  Pickwick,  per- 
ceiving his  advantage,  darted  briskly  forward, 'se- 
cured his  property,  planted  it  on  his  head,  and 
paused  to  take  breath.  He  had  not  been  station- 
ary half  a  minute,  when  he  heard  his  own  name 
eagerly  pronounced  by  a  voice,  which  he  at  once 
recognised  as  Mr.  Tupman's,  and,  looking  up- 
wards, he  beheld  a  sight  which  filled  him  with  sur- 
prise and  pleasure. 

In  an  open  barouche,  the  horses  of  which  had 
been  taken  out,  the  better  to  accommodate  it  to 
the  crowded  place,  stood  a  stout  old  gentleman,  in 
a  blue  coat  and  bright  buttons,  corduroy  breeches 
and  top  boots,  two  young  ladies  in  scarfs  and  fea- 
thers, a  young  gentleman  apparently  enamoured 
of  one  of  the  young  ladies  in  scarfs  and  feathers, 
fi-lady  of  doubtful  a^e,  probably  the  aunt  of  the 
aforesaid,  and  Mr.  Tupman,  as  easy  and  uncon- 
cerned as  if  he  had  belonged  to  the  family  from 
the.  first  moments  of  his  infancy.  Fastened  up 
behind  the  barouche  was  a  hamper  of  spa<:ious  di- 
mensions— one  of  those  hampers  which  always 
awakens,  in   a   contemplative  mind,   associations 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  81" 

connected  witli  cold  fowls,  tongue,  and  bottles  of 
wine— and  on  the  box  sat  a  fat  and  red-faced 
boy,  in  a  s(ate  of  somnolency,  whom  no  specula- 
tive observer  could  have  regarded  for  an  instant 
without  setting  down  as  the  official  dispenser  of  the 
contents  of  the  before- mentioned  hamper,  when 
the  proper  time  for  their  consumption  should  ar- 
rive. 

Mr.  Pickvi'ick  had  bestowed  a  hasty  glance  on 
these  interesting  objects,  when  he  was  again  greet- 
ed by  his  faithful  disciple. 

^'Pickwick— Pickwick,'^  said  Mr.  Tupman ; 
"come  up  here.     Make  haste." 

''Come  along,  sir.  Pray,  come  up,"  said  the 
stout  gentleman.  "Joe!  Joe! — why,  has  the  boy 
gone  to  sleep  again  1  Joe,  let  down  the  steps.'^ " 
The  fat  boy  rolled  slowly  otF  the  box,  let  down 
the  steps,  and  held  the  carriage  door  invitingly, 
open.  Mr.  Snodgrass  and  Mr.  Winkle  came  up 
at  the  moment. 

"Room  for  you  all,  gentleman,"  said  the  stout 
man.  "Two  inside,  and  one  out.  Joe,  make 
room  for  one  of  these  gentlemen  on  the  box. 
Now,  sir,  come  along;"  and  the  stout  gentleman 
extended  his  arm,  and  pulled  tirst  Mr.  Pickwick, 
and  then  -\Ir.  Snodgrass,  into  the  barouche  by  main 
force.  Mr.  Winkle  m.ounted  to  the  box,  the  fat 
boy  waddled  to  the  sixme  perch,  and  fell  fast  asleep 
instantly. 

"Well,  gentlemen,"  said  the  stout  man,  "  very 
glad  to  see  you.  Know  you  very  well,  gentlemen, 
though  you  mayn't  remember  me.  I  spent  some 
ev'nings  at  your  club  last  winter — picked  up  my 
friend  Mr.  Tupman  here  this  morning,  and  very 
glad  I  was  to  see  him.  Well,  sir,  and  how  are 
you  ?     You  do  look  uncommon  well,  to  be  sure." 

Mr.  Pickwick   acknowledged   the  compliment, 


82  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

and  cordially  shook  hands  with  the  stout  gentle- 
man in  the  top  boots. 

"  Well,  and  how  are  you,  sir?"  said  the  stout  gen- 
tleman, addressing  Mr.  Snodgrass  with  paternal 
anxiety.  "Charming,  eh?  Well,  that's  right — 
that's  right.  And  how  are  you,  sir?  (to  Mr.  Win- 
kle.) Well,  1  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  you  are 
well;  very  glad  I  am,  to  be  sure.  My  daughters, 
gentlemen — my  gals,  these  are ;  and  that's  my 
sister,  Miss  Rachael  Wardle.  She's  a  Miss,  she 
is;  and  yet  she  an't  a  Miss — eh,  sir — eh?"  And 
the  stout  gentleman  playfully  inserted  his  elbow 
between  the  ribs  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  laughed 
very  heartily. 

"*0h,  broiler!"  said  Miss  Wardle, with  a  de- 
precating smile. 

"  True,  true,"  said  the  stout  gentleman  ;.  "  no 
one  can  deny  it.  Gentlemen,  I  beg  your  pardon; 
this  is  my  friend  Mr.  Trundle.  And  now  you  all 
know  each  other,  let's  be  comfortable  and  happ}^ 
and  see  what's  going  forward ;  that's  what  I  say." 
So  the  stout  gentleman"  put  on  his  spectacles,  and 
Mr.  Pickwick  pulled  out  his  glass,  and  every  body 
stood  up  in  the  carriage,  and  looked  over  some- 
body else's  shoulder  at  the  evolutions  of  the  mili- 
tary. 

Astounding  evolutions  they  were,  one  rank  firing 
over  the  heads  of  another  rank,  and  then  running 
awfiy ;  and  then  the  other  rank  firing  over  the 
heads  of  another  rank,  and  running  aw^ay  in  their 
turn;  and  then  forming  squares  with  officers  in 
the  centre;  and  then  descending  the  trench  on 
one  side  with  scaling  ladders,  and  ascending  it  on 
the  other  again  by  the  same  means;  and  knocking 
down  barricades  of  baskets,  and  behaving  in  the  most 
gallant  manner  j^ossible.  Thenthere  wassucharajn-. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  88 

ming  down  of  the  contents  of  enormous  guns  on 
the  battery,  with  instruments  like  magnified  mops; 
such  a  preparation  before  they  were  let  off,  and 
such  an  awful  noise  when  they  did  go,  that  the  air 
resounded  with  the  screams  of  ladies.  The  young 
Miss  Wardles  were  so  frightened,  that  Mr.  Trun- 
dle was  actually  obliged  to  hold  one  of  them  up  in 
the  carriage,  while  Mr.  Snodgrass  supported  the 
other;  and  Mr.  Wardle's  sister  sutfered  under 
such  a  dreadful  state  of  nervous  alarm,  that  Mr. 
Tupman  found  it  indispensably  necessar}'  to  put  his 
arm  round  her  waist,  to  keep  her  up  at  all.  Every 
body  was  excited  except  the  fat  boy,  and  he  slept 
as  soundly  as  if  the  roaring  of  cannon  were  his 
ordinary  lullaby. 

"Joe,  Joe!"  said  the  stout  gentleman,  when  the 
citadel  was  taken,  and  the  besiegers  and  besieged 
sat  down  to  dinner.  "Why,  that  boy  has  gone 
to  sleep  again.  Be  good  enough  to  pinch  him,  sir 
— in  the  leg,  if  you  please ;  nothing  else  wakes 
him  :  thank  yon.      Undo  the  hamper,  Joe. 

The  tat  boy,  who  had  been  effectually  roused 
by  the  compression  of  a  portion  of  his  leg,  be- 
tween the  finger  and  thumb  of  Mr.  Winkle,  rolled 
oir  the  box  once  again,  and  proceeded  to  unpack 
the  hamper  with  more  expedition  than  could  have 
been  expected  from  his  previous  inactivity. 

•'  Now,  we  must  sit  close,"  s^id  the  stout  gentle- 
man. After  a  great  many  jokes  about  squeezing 
the  ladies'  sleeves',  and  a  vast  quantity  of  blushing 
at  sundry  jocose  proposals,  that  the  ladies  should 
sit  in  the  gentlemen's  laps,  the  whole  party  were 
stowed  down  in  the  barouche,  and  the  stout  gen- 
tleman proceeded  to  hand  the  things  from  the  fat 
boy  (who  had  mounted  up  behind  for  the  purpose) 
into  the  carriage. 

"  Now,  Joe,  knives  and  forks."  The  knives  and 
forks  were  handed  in,  and  the  ladies  and  gentle- 


84  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

men  inside,  and  Mr.  Winkle  on  the  box,  were  each 
furnished  with  those  useful  implements. 

"  Plates,  Joe.  plates."  A  similar  process  em- 
ployed in  the  distribution  of  the  crockery. 

*'  Now,  Joe,  the  fowls.  Joe  !"  (Sundry  taps  on 
the  head  with  a  stick,  and  the  fat  boy,  with  some 
difficulty,  roused  from  his  lethargy,)  "  Come,  hand 
in  the  eatables. 

There  was  something  in  the  sound  of  the  last 
word,  which  roused  the  unctuous  boy.  He  jump- 
ed up;  and  the  leaden  eyes,  which  twinkled  behind 
-"his  mountainous  cheeks,  leered  horribly  u^on  the 
food  as  he  unpacked  it  from  the  basket. 

"  Now,  make  haste,"  said  Mr.  Wardle;  for  the 
ifat  boy  was  hanging  fondly  over  a  capon,  which-:^ 
he  seemed  wholly  unable  to  part  with.  The  boy 
sighed  deeply,  and,  bestowing  an  ardent  gaze 
upon  its  plumpness,  unwillingly  consigned  it  to  his 
master. 

"  That's  right — look  sharp.  Now  tile  tongue-^ 
now  the  pigeon-pie.  Take  care  of  that  veal  and 
ham — mind  the  lobsters — take  the  salad  out  of  the 
cloth — give  me  the  dressing."  Such  were  the 
hurried  orders  which  issued  from  the  lips  of  Mr. 
Wardle,  as  he  handed  in  the  different  articles  de- 
scribed, and  placed  dishes  in  every  body's  hands, 
and  on  every  body's  knees,  in  endless  number. 

"Now,  ain't  this  capital?"  inquired  that  jolly 
personage,  when  the  work  of  destruction  had  com- 
menced. 

"Capital!"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  who  v>'as  carving 
a  fowl  on  the  box. 
*^  Glass  of  wine  ?'^ 
"  With  the  greatest  pleasure." 
"  You'd  better  have  a  bottle  to  yourself,  up  tliere. 
^hadn't  you?" 

"  You're  very  good." 
"  Joe  !" 


THE  FICKWICK  CLUB.  85 

"  Yes,  sir."  (He  wasn't  asleep  this  time,  having 
just  succeeded  in  abstracting  a  veal  patty.) 

"  Bottle  of  wine  to  the  gentleman  on  the  box. 
Glad  to  see  you,  sir." 

"  Thankee."  Mr.  Winkle  emptied  his  glass, 
and  placed  the  bottle  on  the  coach-box,  by  his 
side. 

,Will  you  permit  me  to  have  the  pleasure,  s'lrV 
Trundle  to  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  W^ith  great  pleasure,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle  to 
Mr.  Trundle  ;  and  then  the  two  gentlemen  took 
wine,  after  which  they  took  a  glass  of  wine  round, 
ladies  and  all. 

"  How  dear  Emily  is  flirting  with  the  stran'ge 
gentleman,"  whispered  the  spinster  aunt,  with  true 
spinster-aunt-like  envv,  to  her  brother  Mr.  War- 
die. 

"Oh!  I  don't  know,"  said  the  jolly  old  gentle- 
mali ;  '•  all  very  ^atural,  I  dare  say — nothincr  un- 
usual. Mr.  Pickwick,  some  wine,  sir  ?'  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, who  had  been  deeply  investigating  the  in- 
terior of  the  pigeon-pie,  readly  assented. 

'•  Emily,  my  dear,"  said  the  spinster  aunt,  with 
a  patronising  air,  "  don't  talk  so  loud,  love." 

''  Lor,  aunt !" 

"  Aunt  and  the  little  aid  gentleman  want  to  have 
it  all  to  themselves,  I  think,"  whispered  Miss  Isa- 
bella Wardle  to  her  sister  Emily.  The  young  la- 
dies laughed  heartily,  and  the  old  one  tried  to  look 
amiable,  but  could  not  manage  it. 

"  Toung  crirls  have  such  spirits,"  said  Miss  War- 
die  to  Mr.  Tupman,  with  an  air  of  gentle  commi- 
seration, as  if  animal  spirits  were  contraband,  and 
their  possession  without  a  permit,  a  high  crime  and 
n:iisdeameanor. 

"  Oh,  they  have,"  replied  Mr.  Tupman,  not  ex- 
actly making  the  sort  of  reply  that  was  expe-cted 
from  him.     "  It's  quite  delightfuk" 
8 


86  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

"  Hem  !"  said  Miss  Wardle,  rather  dubiously. 

"  Will  you  permit  me,"  said  Mi-.  Tupman,  in  his 
blandest  manner,  touching  the  enchanting  Rachael's 
wrist  with  one  hand,  and  gently  elevating  the 
bottle  with  the  other.     "  Will  you  permit  me  ?" 

"  Oh,  sir !"  Mr.  Tupman  looked  most  impressive ; 
and  Rachael  expressed  her  fear  that  more  guns 
were  going  off,  in  which  case,  of  course,  she  would 
have  required  support  again. 

''  Do  you  think  my  dear  nieces  pretty  ?"  whis- 
pered their  affectionate  aunt  to  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  I  should,  if  their  aunt  wasn't  here,"  replied  the 
ready  Pickwickian,  with  a  passionate  glance. 

"  Oh,  you  naughty  man — but  really,  if  their 
complexions  were  a  little  better,  don't  you  think 
they  would  be  nice-looking  girls — by  candle- 
light'?" 

"  Yes  ;  1  think  they  would  ;"  said  Mr.  Tupman, 
with  an  air  of  indifference. 

"Oh)Vou  quiz — I  know  what  you  were  going  to 
say." 

"  What  t"  inquired  Mr.  Tupman,  who  had  not 
precisely  made  up  his  mind  to  say  any  thing  at 
all. 

*'  You  were  going  to  say,  that  Isabella  stoops — I 
know  you  were — you  men  are  such  observers. 
Well,  so  she  does  ;  it  can't  be  denied  ;  and,  cer- 
tainly, if  there  is  one  thing  more  than  another  that 
makes  a  girl  look  ugly,  it  is  stooping.  I  often  tell 
her,  that  when  she  gets  a  little  older,  she'll  be  quite 
frightful.     Well,  you  are  a  quiz  !" 

Mr.  Tupman  had  no  objection  to  earning  the  re- 
putation at  so  cheap  a  rate:  so  he  looked  very 
knowing,  and  smiled  mysteriously. 

*'  What  a  sarcastic  smile,"  said  the  admiring 
Rachael ;  "  I  declare  I'm  quite  afraid  of  you." 

"  Afraid  of  me  !" 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  87 

*'0h,  you  can't  disguise  any  thing  from  me — I 
know  what  that  smile  means,  very  well." 

"What?"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  who  had  not  the 
slightest  notion  himself. 

"You  mean,"  said  the  amiable  aunt,  sinking  her 
voice  still  lower-^"  You  mean,  that  you  don't 
think  Isabella's  stooping  is  as  bad  as  Emily's  bold- 
ness. Well,  she  is  bold!  You  cannot  think  how 
wretched  it  makes  me  sometimes — I'm  sure  I  cry 
about  it  for  hours  together — my  dear  brother  is  so 
good,  and  so  unsuspicious,  that  he  never  sees  it;  if 
he  did,  I'm  quite  certain  it  would  break  his  heart. 
I  wish  I  could  think  it  was  only  manner — I  hope 
it  may  be — "  (here  the  affectionate  relative  heaved 
a  deep  sigh,  and  shook  her  head  despondingly.) 

"I'm  sure  aunt's  talking  about  us,"  whispered 
Miss  Emily  Wardle  to  her  sister — "  I'm  quite  cer- 
tain of  it— she  looks  so  malicious." 

"  Is  she  ?"  replied  Isabella — "  Hem  !  aunt,  dear!" 

"  Yes,  my  dear  love  !" 

"  I'm  so  afraid  you'll  catch  cold,  aunt — have  a 
silk  handkerchief  to  tie  round  your  dear  old  head 
— you  really  should  take  care  of  yourself — consider 
your  age!" 

However  w-ell  deserved  this  piece  of  retaliation 
might  have  been,  it  was  as  vindictive  a  one  as 
could  well  have  been  resorted  to.  There  is  no 
guessing  in  what  form  of  reply  the  aunt's  indigria- 
tion  would  have  vented  itself,  had  not  Mr.  Wardle 
unconsciously  changed  the  subject,  by  calling  em- 
phatically for  Joe. 

"  D — n  that  boy,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  he's 
gone  to  sleep  again.'' 

"  Very  extraordinary  boy,  that^"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, "does  ho  always  sleep  in  this  way'?" 

*^  Sleep  !"  said  the  old  gen.tleman,."  he's  always 
asleep.  Goes  on  errands  fast  asleep,  and  snores  as 
he  waits  at  table/' 


88  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

''How  very  odd  !"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  . 

''Ah  !  odd  indeed,"  returned  the  old  gentleman  ; 
"  I'm  proud  of  that  boy — wouldn't  part  with  him 
on  any  account — why,  he's  a  natural  curiosity  ! 
Here,  Joe — Joe — take  these  things  away,  and  open 
another  bottle — d'ye  hear?" 

The  fat  boy  rose,  opened  his  eyes,  swallowed  the 
iuige  piece  of  pie  he  had  been  in  the  act  of  masti- 
cating when  he  last  fell  asleep,  and  slowly  obeyed 
his  master's  orders — gloating  languidly  over  the 
remains  of  the  feast,  as  he  removed  the  plates,  and 
deposited  them  in  the  hamper.  The  fresh  bottle 
was  produced,  and  speedily  emptied:  the  hamper 
was  made  fast  in  its  old  place — the  fat  boy  once 
more  mounted  the  box — the  spectacles  and  pocket- 
glass  were  again  adjusted — and  the  evolutions  of 
the  military  re-commenced.  There  was  a  great 
fizzing  and  banging  of  guns,  and  startling  of  ladies 
— and  then  a  mine  was  sprung,  to  the  gratification 
of  every  body — and  when  the  mine  had  gone  ofl^, 
the  military  and  the  company  followed  its  exam- 
ple, and  went  off  too. 

"Now,  mind,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  as  he 
shook  hands  with  Mr.  Pickwick  at  the  conclusion 
of  a  conversation  which  had  been  carried  on  at 
intervals,  during  the  conclusion  of  the  proceedings 
— "  \Ye  shall  see  you  all  to-morrow." 

"  Most  certainly/'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"You  have  got  the  address?" 

"Manor  Farm,  Dingley  Dell,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, consulting  liis  pocket-book. 

"  That's  it,"  said  the  old  gentleman.  "  I  don't 
let  you  off,  mind,  under  a  week;  and  undertake 
that  you  shall  see  every  thing  worth  seeing.  If 
you've  come  down  for  a  country  life,  come  to  me, 
and  I'll  give  you  plenty  of  it.  Joe— d — n  that  boy, 
he's  gone  to  sleep  again— -Joe,  help  Tom  put  in. 
the  horses."  . 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  89 

The  horses  were  put  in — the  driver  mounted — 
the  fat  boy  clambered  up  by  his  side — farewells 
were  exchanged — and  the  carriages  rattled  off. 
As  the  Pickwickians  turned  around  to  take  a  last 
glimpse  of  it,  the  setting  sun  cast  a  rich  glow  on 
the  faces  of  Iheir  entertainers,  and  fell  upon  the 
form  of  the  fat  boy.  His  head  was  sunk  upon  his 
bosom;  and  he  slumbered  again. 


90  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS, OFt 


CHAPTER  V: 


A'SHORT  ONE — SHOWING,  A?JONG  OTHER  MATTERS,  HOW 
MR.  PICKWICK  UNDERTOOK  TO  DRIVE,  AND  MR.  ^YlN- 
KLE  TO  ride;  and    HOW  THEY  BOTH  DID  IT. 

Bright  and  pleasant  was  (he  sky,  balmy  the 
air,  and  beautiful  the  appearance  of  every  object 
around,  as  Mr.  Pickwick  leaned  over  the  balus- 
trades of  Rochester  Bridge,  contemplating  nature, 
and  waiting  for  breakfast.  The  scene  was  in- 
deed one,  which  might  well  have  chlarmed  a  far 
less  reflective  mind  than  that  to  which  it  was  pre- 
sented. 

On  the  left  of  the  spectator  lay  the  ruined  wall, 
broken  in  many  places;  and,  in  some,  overhang- 
ing the  narrow  beach  below  in  rude  and  heavy 
masses.  Huge  knots  of  sea-weed  hung  upon  the 
jagged  and  pointed  stones,  trembhng  in  ..  every 
breath  of  wind ;  and  tho  green  ivy  clung  mourn- 
fully round  the  dark  and  ruindd  battlements.  Be- 
hind it  rose  the  ancient  castle,  its  towers  roofless, 
and  its  massive  wails  crumbling  away,  but  telling 
us  proudly  of  its  old  might  and  strength,  as  when, 
seven  hundred  years  ago,  it  rang  with  the  clash  of 
arms,  or  resounded  with  the  noise  of  feasting  and 
revelry.  On  either  side,  the  banks  of  theMed- 
way,  covered  with  corn-fields  and  pastures,  with 
here  and  there  a  windmill,  or  a  distant  church, 
stretched  away  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see,  present- 
ing a  rich  and  varied  landscape,  rendered  more 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  91 

beautiful  by  the  changing  shadows  which  passed 
swiftly  across  it,  as  the  thin  and  half-formed  clouds 
skimmed  away  in  the  light  of  the  morning  sun. 
The  river,  reflecting  the  clear  blue  of  the  sky, 
glistened  and  sparkled  as  it  flowed  noiselessly  on; 
and  the  oars  of  the  hshermen  dipped  into  the  water 
with  a  clear  and  liquid  sound,  as  their  heavy,  but 
picturesque,  boats  glided  slowly  down  the  stream. 

Mn  Pickwick  was  roused  from  the  agreeable 
reverie  into  which  he  had  been  led  by  the  objects 
before  him,  by  a  deep  sigh,  and  a  touch  on  his 
shoulder.  He  turned  round:  and  the  dismal  man 
was  at  his  side. 

"  Contemplating  the  scene  ?"  inquired  the  dismal 
man. 

*'  I  was,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"And  congratulating  yourself  on  being  up  so 
soon?"     Mr.  Pickwick  nodded  assent. 

"  Ah !  people  need  to  rise  early,  to  see  the  sun 
in  all  his  splendour,  for  his  brightness  seldom  lasts 
the  day  through.  The  morning  of  day  and  the 
morning  of  life  are  but  too  much  alike." 

"  You  speak  truly",  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"How  common  the  saying,"  continued  the  dis- 
mal man,  "  'The  morning's  too  fine  to  last.'  How 
well  might  it  be  applied  to  our  every-day  existence. 
Ah  !  what  would  1  forfeit  to  have  the  days  of  my 
childhood  restored,  or  to  be  able  to  forget  them 
for  ever  !" 

"  You  have  seen  much  trouble,  sir,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  compassionately. 

"  I  have,"  said  the  dismal  man,  hurriedly ;  "  I 
have.  More  than  those  who  see  me  now  would 
believe  possible."  He  paused  for  an  instant,  and 
then  said,  abruptly, 

"  Did  it  ever  strike  you,  on  such  a  morning 
as  this,  that  drowning  would  be  happiness  and 
peace  ?' 


92  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OP 

"  Why,  bless  me,  no !"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick, 
edging  a  little  from  the  balustrade,  as  the  possibility 
of  the  dismal  man's  tipping  him  over,  by  way  of 
experiment,  occurred  to  him  rather  forcibly. 

"  /  have  thought  so,  often,"  said  the  dismal  man, 
without  noticing  the  action.  "  The  calm,  cool 
water  seems  to  me  to  murmu>r  an  invitation  to  re- 
pose and  rest.  A  bound,  a  splash,  a  brief  struggle; 
there  is  an  eddy  for  an  instant,  it  gradually  sub- 
sides into  a  gentle  ripple  :  the  waters  have  closed 
above  your  head,  and  the  world  has  closed  upon 
your  miseries  and  misfortunes  for  ever.  The 
sunken  eye  of  the  dismal  man  flashed  brightly  as 
he  spoke,  but  the  momentary  excitement  quickly 
subsided  ;  and  he  turned  calmly  away,  as  he  said — 

"There — enough  of  that.  1  wished  to' see  you 
on  another  subject.  You  invited  me  to  read  that 
paper  the  night  before  last,  and  listened  attentively 
while  I  did  so." 

"  I  did,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick ;  ^'  and  I  certainly 
thought-. " 

"  I  asked  for  no  opinion,"  said  the  dismal  man, 
interrupting  him,  "and  I  want  none.  You  are 
travelling  for  amusement  and  '  instruction.  Sup- 
pose I  forwarded  you  a  curious  manuscript— ob- 
serve, not  curious  because  wild  or  improbable,  but 
curious  as  a  leaf  from  the  romance  of  real  life. 
Would  you  communicate  it  to  the  club,  of  which 
you  have  spoken  so  frequently  ?" 

"Certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  "if  you 
wished  it ;  and  it  would  be  entered  on  their  trans- 
actions." 

"You  shall  have  it,"  replied  the  dismal  man. 
"  Your  address :"  and  Mr.  Pickwick  having  com- 
municated their  probable  route,  the  dismal  man 
carefully  noted  it  down  in  a  greasy  pocket-book, 
and,  resisting  Mr.  Pickwi<ik's  pressing  invitatkl)!!' 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  93 

to  breakfast,  left  that  gentleman  at  his  inn,  and 
walked  slowly  away. 

Mr.  Pickwick  found  that  his  three  companions 
had  risen,  and  were  waiting  his  arrival  to  com- 
mence breakfast,  which  was  ready  laid  in  tempt- 
ing display.  They  sat  down  to  the  meal ;  and 
broiled  ham,  eggs,  tea,  coffee,  and  sundries,  began 
to  disappear  with  a  rapidity  which  at  once  bore 
testimony  to  the  excellence  of  the  fare,  and  the 
appetites  of  its  consumers. 

"  Now,  about  Manor  Farm,"  said  Mn  Pick- 
wick.    "How  shall  we  go?" 

"We  had  better  consult  the  waiter,  perhaps," 
said  Mr.  Tupman  ;  and  the  waiter  was  summoned 
accordingl3\ 

"  Dingley  Dell,  gentlemen — fifteen  miles,  gen- 
tlemen— cross  road — post-chaise,  sir?' 

"  Post-chaise  won't  hold  more  than  two,"  said 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  True,  sir — beg  your  pardon,  sir.  Very  nice 
four-wheel  chaise,  sir — seat  for  two  behind — one 
in  front  for  the  gentleman  that  drives.  Oh !  beg 
your  pardon,  sir — that'll  only  hold  three." 

'•"What's  to  be  done?"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"Perhaps  one  of  the  gentlemen  like  to  ride,  sir," 
suggested  the  waiter,  looking  towards  Mr.  Winkle  ; 
"  very  good  saddle  horses,  sir — any  of  Mr.  War- 
die's  men  coming  to  Rochester,  bring  'em  back, 
sir." 

"  The  very  thing,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Win- 
kle, will  you  go  on  horseback  ?" 

Now  Mr.  Winkle  did  entertain  considerable  mis- 
givings in  the  very  lowest  recesses  of  his  own 
heart,  relative  to  his  equestrian  skill ;  but,  as  he 
would  not  have  them  even  suspected  on  any  ac- 
count, he  at  once  replied  with  great  hardihood, 
^.^  Certainly.     I  should  enjoy  it,  of  all  things." 

Mr,  Winkle  had  rushed  upon  his  fate;  there  was 


94  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

RO  resource.  "  Let  them  be  at  the  door  by  ele- 
ven," said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*'  Very  well,  sir,"  replied  the  waiter. 

The  waiter  retired ;  the  breakfast  concluded ; 
and  the  travellers  ascended  to  their  respective  bed- 
rooms, to  prepare  a  change  of  clothing,  to  take 
v?ith  them  oi]  their  approaching  expedition. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  made  his  preliminary  arrange- 
ments, and  was  looking  over  the  coffee-room  blinds 
at  the  passengers  in  the  street,  when  the  waiter 
entered,  and  announced  that  the  chaise  was  ready 
— an  announcement  which  the  vehicle  itself  con- 
firmed, by  forthwith  appearing  before  the  coffee- 
room  blinds  aforesaid. 

It  was  a  curious  little  green  box  on  four  wheels, 
with  a  low  place  like  a  wine  bin  for  two  behind, 
and  an  elevated  perch  for  one  in  front,  drawn  by 
an  immense  brown  horse,  displaying  great  symme- 
try of  bone.  An  hostler  stood  near  it,  holding  by 
the  bridle  another  immense  horse — apparently  a 
near  relative  of  the  animal  in  the  chaise — ready 
saddled  for  Mr.  Winkle. 

''  Bless  my  soul  1"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  they 
stood  upon  the  pavement  while  the  coats  were  be- 
ing put  in,  ''Bless  my  soul!  who's  to  drive?  I 
never  thought  of  that.'' 

"  Oh  !  you,  of  course,"  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

"Of  course,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"  I !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Not  the  slightest  fear,  sir,"  interposed  the  hos- 
tler. "Warrant  him  quiet,  sir;  a  hinfant  in  arms 
might  drive  him." 

"He  don't  shy,  does  he?"  inquired  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

"  Shy,  sir?  He  wouldn't  shy  if  he  was  to  meet 
a  vaggin-load  of  monkeys,  with  their  tails  burnt 
off." 

The  last  recommondation  was  indisputable,   Mr? 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  95 

Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  got  into  the  bin ;  Mr. 
Pickwick  ascended  to  his  perch,  and  deposited  his 
feet  on  a  floor-clothed  shelf,  erected  beneath  it  for 
that  purpose. 

"Now,  shiny  Villiam,"  said  the  hostler  to  the 
deputy  hostler,  "  "  give  the  gen'I'm'n  the  ribbins." 
"Shiny  Viliiam" — so  called,  probably,  from  his 
sleek  hair  and  oily  countenance — placed  the  reins 
in  Mr.  Pickwick's  left  hand  ;  and  the  upper  hos- 
tler thrust  a  whip  into  his  right. 

"  Woo,"  cried  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  the  tall  qua- 
druped evinced  a  decided  inclination  to  back  into 
the  coffee-room  window. 

"  Wo— o,"  echoed  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snod- 
grass, from  the  bin. 

"Only  his  playfulness,  gen'I'm'n,"  said-the  head 
hostler,  encouragingly — "jist  kitch  liold  on  him, 
Villiam.''  The  deputy  restrained  th-e  animal's  im- 
petuosity, and  the  principal  ran  to  assist  Mr.  Win- 
kle in  mounting. 

"T'other  side,  sir,  if  you  please." 

"  Plowed  if  the  gen'I'm'n  worn't  a  gettin'  up  on 
the  wrong  side,"  whispered  a  grinning  post-boy,  to 
the  inexpressibly  gratified  waiter. 

Mr.  Winkle,  thus  instructed,  climbed  into  his 
saddle,  with  about  as  much  difficulty  as  he  would 
have  experienced  in  getting  up  the  side  of  a  first 
rate  man-of-Xvar.'' 

"All  right/?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  an 
inward  presentiment  that  it  was  all  wrong. 

"  All  right,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle  faintly. 

"  Let  'em  go,"  cried  the  hostler.  "  Hold  him  in, 
sir ;"  and  away  went  the  chaise,  and  the  saddle- 
horse,  with  Mr.  Pickwick  on  the  box  of  the  one, 
and  Mr.  Winkle  on  the  back  of  the  other,  to  the 
delight  and  gratification  of  the  whole  inn  yard. 

"What  makes   him   go   sideways?"   said   Mr. 


96  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

Snodgrass,  in  the  bin,  to  Mr.  Winkle  in  the  sad- 
dle. 

*' I  can't  imagine,"  replied  ]\lr.  Winkle.  His 
horse  was  going  up  the  street  in  the  most  myste- 
rious manner — side  first,  with  his  head  towards 
one  side  of  the  way,  and  his  tail  to  the  other. 

"  Mr.  Pickwick  had  no  leisure  to  observe  either 
this  or  any  other  particular,  the  whole  of  his  fa- 
culties being  concentrated  in  the  management  of 
the  animal  attached  to  the  chai.se,  who  displayed 
various  peculiarities,  highly  interesting  to  a  by- 
stander, but  by  no  means  equally  amusing  to  any 
one  seated  behind  him.  Besides  constantly  jerk- 
ing his  head  up,  in  a  very  unpleasant  and  uncom- 
fortable manner,  and  tugging  at  the  reins  to  an  ex- 
tent which  rendered  it  a  matter  of  great  difficulty 
for  Mr.  Pickwick  to  hold  them,  he  had  a  singular 
propensity  for  darting  suddenly,  avery  now  and 
then,  to  the  side  of  the  road,  then  stopping  short, 
and  tlien  rushing  forward  for  some  minutes,  at  a 
speed  which  it  was  wholly  impossible  to  control. 

"  What  ca?i  he  mean  by  this?"  said  Mr.  Snod- 
gi'ass,  when  the  iiorse  had  executed  this  m.anoeu- 
vre  for  the  twentieth  time. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Mr.  Tupman  ;  ^'  it  looks  very- 
like  shying,  don't  it  ?'  Mr.  Snodgrass  was  about  to 
reply,  when  he  was  interrupted  by  a  shout  trom 
Mr.  PickwicK. 

"Woo,"  said  that  gentleman,  "I  have  dropped 
my  whip." 

^'  Winkle,"  cried  Mr.  Snodgrass,  as  the  eques- 
trian came  trotting  up  on  the  tall  horse,  with  his 
hat  over  his  ears;  and  shaking  all  over,  as  if  he 
would  shake  to  pieces,  with  the  violence  of  the 
exercise.  "  Pick  up  the  whip,  there's  a  good  fellow." 
Mr.  Winkle  pulled  at  the  bridle  of  the  tall  horse 
till  he  was  black  in  the  foce ;  and  having  at  length 
succeeded  in  stopping  him,  dismounted,  handed  the 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  97 

whip  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  grasping  the  reins,  pre- 
pared to  remount. 

Now  whether  ihe  tall  horse,  in  the  natural  play- 
fulness of  his  disposition,  was  desirous  of  having  a 
little  innocent  recreation  with  Mr.  Winkle,  or 
whether  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  could  perform 
the  journey  as  much  to  his  own  satisfaction  with- 
out a  rider  as  with  one,  are  points  upon  which,  of 
course,  we  can  arrive  at  no  definite  and  distinct 
conclusion.  By  wfjatever  motives  the  animal  was 
actuated,  certain  it  is  that  Mr.  Winkle  had  no 
sooner  touched  the  reins,  than  he  slipped  them  over 
his  head,  and  darted  backwards  to  their  full 
length. 

"  Poor  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Wrinkle,  soothingly, — 
"poor  fellow — good  old  horse."  The  "  poor  fel- 
low" was  proof  against  flattery:  the  more  Mr. 
Winkle  tried  to  get  nearer  him,  the  more  he  sidled 
away:  and,  notwithstanding  all  kinds  of  coaxing 
and  wheedling,  thqre  were  Mr.  Winkle  and  the 
horse  going  round  and  round  each  other  for  ten 
minutes,  at  the  end  of  which  time  each  was  at  pre- 
cisely the  same  distance  from  the  other  as  when 
they  first  commenced — an  unsatisfactory  sort  of 
thing  under  any  circumstances,  but  particularly  so 
in  a  lonely  road,  where  no  assistance  can  be  pro- 
cured. 

"  What  am  I  to  do?"  shouted  Mr.  Winkle,  after 
the  dodging  had  been  prolonged  for  a  considera- 
ble time.  "  What  am  I  to  do?  I  can't  get  on 
him  ?" 

"  You  had  better  lead  him  till  we  come  to  a 
turnpike,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick  from  the  chaise. 

"  But  he  won't  come,"  roared  Mr.  Winkle.  "Do 
come,  and  hold  him." 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  the  very  personation  of  kind- 
ness and    humanity:    he  threw  the  reins  on   the 
horse's  back,  and  having  descended  from  his  seat, 
9 


98  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

carefully  drew  the  chaise  into  the  hedge,  lest  any 
thing  should  come  along  the  road,  and  stepped 
back  to  the  assistance  of  his  distressed  conr^panion, 
leaving  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  in  the 
vehicle. 

The  horse  no  sooner  beheld  Mr.  Pickwick  ad- 
vancing towards  him,  with  the  chaise  whip  in  hi& 
hand,  than  he  exchanged  the  rotary  motion  in 
which  he  had  previously  indulged,  for  a  re- 
trograde movement  of  so  very  determined  a  cha- 
racter, that  it  at  once  drew  Mr.  Winkle,  who  was 
still  at  the  end  of  the  bridle,  at  a  rather  quicker 
rate  than  fast  walking  in  the  direction  from  which 
they  had  just  come.  Mr.  Pickwick  ran  to  his  as- 
sistance, but  the  faster  Mr.  Pickwick  ran  forward, 
the  faster  the  horse  ran  backward.  There  was  a 
great  scraping;  of  feet,  and  kicking  up  of  the  dust; 
and  at  last  Mr.  Winkle,  his  arms  being  nearly 
pulled  out  of  their  sockets,  fairly  let  go  his  hold. 
The  horse  paused,  stared,  shook  his  head,  turned 
round, and  quietly  trotted  home  toRochester,  leaving 
Mr.  Winkle  and  Mr.  Pickwick  gazing  on  each  other 
■with  countenances  of  blank  dismay.  A  rattling 
noise  at  a  little  distance  attracted  their  attention. 
They  looked  up. 

"Bless  my  soul!"  exclaimed  the  agonized  Mr, 
Pickwick,  "  there's  the  other  horse  running  away  !'* 

It  was  but  too  true.  The  animal  was  startled 
by  the  noise,  and  the  reins  were  on  his  back.  The 
result  may  be  guessed.  He  tore  off  with  the  four- 
wheeled  chaise  behind  him,  and  Mr.  Tupman  and 
Mr.  Snodgrass  in  the  four-wheeled  chaise.  The 
heat  was  a  short  one.  Mr.  Tupman  threw  hinh- 
self  into  the  hedge,  Mr.  Snodgrass  followed  his  ex- 
ample, the  horse  dashed  the  four-wheeled  chaise 
against  a  wooden  bridge,  separated  the  wheels  from 
the  body,  and  the  bin  from  the  perch;  and  finally 
stood  stock  still,  to  gaze  upon  the  ruin  he  had 
made. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  99 

The  first  care  of  the  two  unspilt  friends  was  to 
tjxtricate  their  unfortunate  companions  from  their 
bed  of  quickset — a  process  which  gave  them  the 
unspeakable  satisfaction  of  discovering  that  they 
had  sustained  no  injury,  beyond  sundry  rents  in 
their  garments,  and  various  lacerations  from  the 
brambles.  The  next  thincr  to  be  done  was,  to  un- 
harness the  horse.  This  complicated  process 
having  been  effected,  the  party  walked  slowly  for- 
ward, leading  the  horse  among  them,  and  aban- 
doning (he  ciraise  to  its  fate. 

"An  hour's  walking  brous^ht  the  travellers  to  a 
little  road-side  public  house,  with  two  elm-trees,  a 
horse  trough  and  a  sign-post,  in  front;  one  or  two 
deformed  hay-ricks  behind,  a  kitchen  garden  at  the 
side,  and  rotten  sheds  and  moulclering  out-houses, 
jumbled,  in  strange  confusion,  all  about  it.  A  red- 
headed man  was  workinsj  in  the  garden ;  and  to 
him  Mr.  Pickwick  called  lustily— «'' Hallo  there!" 

The  red-headed  man  raised  his  body,  shaded  his 
eyes,  with  his  hands,  and  stared,  long  and  coolly, 
at  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  companions. 

"Hallo  there!"  repeated  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Hallo!"  was  the  red-headed  man's  reply. 

"  How  far  is  it  to  Dingley  DelH" 

"Better  er  seven  mile." 

**  Is  it  a  good  road  T" 

"No,  t'ant."  Having  uttered  this  brief  reply, 
and  apparently  satisfied  himself  with  another  scru- 
tiny, the  red-headed  man  resumed  his  work. 

"  We  want  to  put  this  horse  up  here,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick ;  "  I  suppose  we  can,  can't  we?' 

"Want  to  put  that  ere  horse  up,  do  ee?'  re- 
peated the  red-headed  man,  leaning  on  his  spade. 

"  Of  course,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  had  by 
this  time  advanced  horse  in  hand,  to  the  garden 
rails. 

"Missus" — roared  the  raan  with  the  red  head, 


100  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

emerging  from  the  garden,  and  looking  very  hard 
at  the  horse — "Missus." 

A  tall  bony  wonnan — straight  all  the  way  down 
—■in  a  coarse  blue  pelisse,  with  the  waist  an  inch 
or  two  below  her  arnn-pits,  responded  to  the  call. 

"Can  we  put  this  horse  up  here,  my  good  wo- 
man?" said  Mr.  Tupman,  advancing,  and  speaking 
in  his  most  seductive  tones.  The  woman  looked 
very  liard  at  the  whole  party  ;  and  the  red-headed 
man  whispered  something  in  her  ear. 

*'No,"  replied  the  \Noman,  after  a  little  conside- 
ration, "I  am  afeerd  on  it. 

*' Afraid  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  ^' what's 
the  woman  afraid  of!" 

"  It  got  us  in  trouble  last  time,"  said  the  woman, 
turning  into  the  house ;  "  I  won't  have  nothin'  to 
say  to  'un." 

"Most  extraordinary  tliini:!;  1  ever  met  with  in 
my  life,"  said  the  astonislied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  I — I — really  believe,"  whispered  Mr.  Winkle, 
as  his  friends  gathered  round  him,  "  that  they  think 
we  have  come  by  this  horse  in  some  dishonest 
manner." 

"  What !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  a  storm 
of  indignation.  Mr.  Winkle  modestly  repeated  his 
suggestion. 

"Hallo,  you  fellow!"  said  the  angry  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, "  do  you  think  we  stole  this  horse?" 

"Pm  sure  ye  did,"  replied  the  red-headed  man, 
with  a  grin  which  agitated  his  countenance  from 
one  auricular  organ  to  the  other.  Saying  which, 
he  turned  into  the  house,  and  banged  the  door  af- 
ter him. 

"It's  like  a  dream,"  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick — 
"a  hideous  dream.  The  idea  of  a  man's  walking 
about,  all  day,  with  a  dreadful  horse,  that  he  can't 
get  rid  of!"  The  depressed  Pickwickians  turned 
moodily  away,  with  the  tall  quadruped,  for  which 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  101 

t^ey  all  felt  the  most  unmitigated  disgust,  folloW" 
ing  slowly  at  their  heels. 

It  was  late  iti  the  afternoon,  when  the  four  friends 
and  their  four-footed  companion  turned  into  the 
lane  leading  to  Manor  Farm;  and  even  when 
they  were  so  near  their  place  of  destination,  the 
pleasure  they  would  otherwise  have  experienced, 
was  materially  damped  as  they  reflected  on  the 
singularity  of  Iheir  appearance,  and  the  absurdity 
of  their  situation.  Torn  clothes,  lacerated  faces, 
dusty  shoes,  exhausted  looks,  and,  above  all,  the 
horse.  Oh,  how  Mr.  Pickwick  cursed  that  horse: 
he  had  eyed  the  noble  animal  from  time  to  time 
with  looks  expressive  of  hatred  and  revenge  ;  more 
than  once  he  had  calculated  the  probable  amount 
of  the  expense  he  would  incur  by  cutting  his 
throat ;  and  now  the  temptation  to  destroy  him, 
or  to  cast  him  loose  upon  the  world,  rushed  upon 
his  mind  with  ten-fold  force.  He  was  roused  from 
a  meditation  on  these  dire  imaginings,  by  the  sud- 
den appearance  of  two  figures,  at  a  turn  of  the 
lane.  It  was  Mr.  Wardle,  and  his  faithful  atten- 
dant, the  fat  boy. 

^' Why,  where  have  you  been?"  said  the  hospi- 
table old  gentleman.  "  I've  been  waiting  for  you 
all  day.  Well,  you  do  look  tired.  What!  Scratch- 
es !  Not  hurt,  i  hope — eh?  Well,  1  am  glad  to 
hear  that — very.  So,  you've  been  spilt,  eh  t  Ne- 
ver mind.  Common  accident  in  these  parts.  Joe 
— why,  the  boy,  he's  asleep  again — Joe,  take 
that  horse  from  the  gentleman,  and  lead  it  into  the 
stable." 

The  fat  boy  sauntered  heavily  behind  them  with 
the  animal;  and  the  old  gentleman,  condoling  with 
his  guests  in  homely  phrase,  on  so  much  of  the  day's 
adventures  as  they  thought  proper  to  communicate, 
led  the  way  to  the  kitchen. 

"We'll  have  you  put  to  rights  here,"  said  the 
9* 


102  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OP 

old  gentleman,  "and  then  I'll  introduce  you  to  the 
people  in  the  parlour.  Emma,  bring  out  the  cherry- 
brandy  ;  now,  Jane,  a  needle  and  thread  here — 
towels  and  water,  Mary.  Come,  girls,  bustle 
about." 

Three  or  four  buxom  girls  speedily  dispersed  in 
search  of  the  different  articles  in  requisition,  while 
a  couple  of  large-headed,  circular-visaged  males 
rose  from  their  seats  in  the  chimney  corner,  (for, 
although  it  was  a  May  evening,  their  attachment 
to  the  wood  fire  appeared  as  cordial  as  if  it  were 
Christmas,)  and  dived  into  some  obscure  recesses, 
from  which  they  speedily  produced  a  bottle  of 
blacking,  and  some  half  a  dozen  brushes. 

"Bustle,"  said  the  old  gentleman  again;  but 
the  admonition  was  quite  unnecessary,  for  one  of 
the  girls  poured  out  the  cherry  brandy,  and  another 
brought  in  the  towels,  and  one  of  the  men  sud- 
denly seizing  Mr.  Pickwick  by  the  leg,  at  the  immi- 
nent hazard  of  throwing  him  off  his  balance, 
brushed  away  at  his  boot,  till  his  corns  were  red 
hot ;  while  the  other  shampoo'd  Mr.  Winkle  with 
a  heavy  clothes  brush,  indulging,  during  the  ope- 
ration, in  that  hissing  sound,  which  hostlers  are 
wont  to  produce,  when  engaged  in  rubbing  down 
a  horse. 

Mr.  Snodgrass,  having  concluded  his  ablutions, 
took  a  survey  of  the  room,  while  standing  with  his 
back  to  the  fire,  sipping  his  cherry  brandy  with 
heart-felt  satisfaction.  JfJe  describes  it,  as  a  large 
apartment,  with  a  red  brick  floor,  and  a  capacious 
chimney;  the  ceiling  garnished  with  hams,  sides 
of  bacon,  and  ropes  of  onions.  The  walls  were 
decorated  with  several  hunting-whips,  two  or  three 
bridles,  a  saddle,  and  an  old  rusty  blunderbuss, 
with  an  inscription  below  it,  intimating  that  it  was 
"Loaded," — as  it  had  been,  on  the  same  authority, 
for   half  a  century  at  least.     An   old  eight-day 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  103 

clock,  of  solemn  and  sedate  demeanour,  ticked 
gravelj  in  one  corner;  and  a  silver  walch,  of  equal 
antiquity,  dangled  from  one  of  the  many  hooks 
which  ornamented  the  dresser. 

"  Ready  ?"  said  the  old  gentleman,  inquiringly, 
when  his  guests  had  been  washed,  mended,  brush- 
ed, and  brandied. 

"  Quite,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Come  along  then;"  and  the  party  having  tra- 
versed several  dark  passages,  and  being  joined  by 
Mr.  Tupman,  who  had  lingered  behind  to  snatch 
a  kiss  from  Emma,  for  which  he  had  been  duly  re- 
warded with  sundry  pushings  and  scratching?,  ar- 
rived at  the  parlour  door. 

"  Welcome,"  said  their  hospitable  host,  throwing 
it  open,  and  stepping  forward  to  announce  them— ^ 
='  Welcome,  gentlemen,  to  Manor  Farm," 


104  POSTHUMOUS  FAFERS  OF 


CHAPTER  VI. 

AN    OLD-FASniONED    CARD    PARTY THE    CLERGYMAN'* 

VERSES THE  STORY  OF  THE  CONVICT's  RETURN. 

Several  guests,  who  were  assembled  in  the  old 
parlour,  rose  to  greet  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends 
upon  iheir  entrance;  and  during  the  performance 
of  the  ceremony  of  introduction,  with  all  due  for- 
malities, Mr.  Pickwick  had  leisure  to  observe  the 
appearance,  and  speculate  upon  the  characters 
and  pursuits,  of  the  persons  by  whom  he  was  sur- 
rounded— a  habit  in  which  he,  in  common  with 
many  other  great  men,  delighted  to  indulge. 

A  very  old  lady,  in  a  lofty  cap  and  faded  silk 
gown — no  less  a  personage  than  Mr.  Wardle's  mo- 
ther— occupied  the  post  of  honour  on  the  right- 
hand  corner  of  the  chimney-piece;  and  various 
certificates  of  her  having  been  brought  up  in  the 
way  she  should  go  when  young,  and  of  her  not 
having  departed  from  it  when  old,  ornamented  the 
walls,  in  the  forms  of  samplers  of  ancient  date, 
worsted  landscapes  of  equal  antiquity,  and  crim- 
son silk  tea-kettle  holders  of  a  more  modern  pe- 
riod. The  aunt,  the  two  young  ladies,  and  Mr. 
Wardle,  each  vicing  with  the  other  in  paying 
zealous  and  unremitting  attentions  to  the  old  lady, 
crowded  round  her  easy  chair,  one  holding  her  ear- 
trumpet,  another  an  orange,  and  a  third  a  smell- 
ing-bottle, while  a  fourth  was  busily  engaged  in 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  105 

patting  and  punching  the  pillows  which  were  ar- 
ranged fur  her  support.  On  the  opposite  side,  sat 
a  bald-headed  old  gentleman,  with  a  good-humour- 
ed, benevolent  face — the  clergyman  of  Dingley 
Dell;  and  next  him  sat  his  wife,  a  stout,  blooming 
old  lady,  who  looked  as  if  she  were  well  skilled, 
not  only  in  the  art  and  mystery  of  manufacturing 
home-made  cordials  greatly  to  other  people's  sa- 
tisfaction, but  of  tasting  them  occasionally  very 
much  to  her  own.  A  little  hard-headed,  Ri|)stone, 
pippin-faced  man,  was  conversing  with  a  fat  old 
gentleman  in  one  corner;  and  two  or  three  more 
old  gentlemen,  and  two  or  three  more  old  ladies,  sat 
bolt-upright  and  motionless  on  their  chairs,  staring 
very  hard  at  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  fellow-voyagers, 

""Mr.  Pickwick,  mother,"  said  Mr.  Wardle  at 
the  very  top  of  his  voice. 

"  Ahl"  said  the  old  lady,  shaking  her  head;  "I 
can't  hear  you." 

"Mr.  Pickwick,  grandma  !"  screamed  both  the 
young  ladies  together. 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  the  old  lady.  "Well;  it 
don't  much  matter.  He  don't  care  for  an  old 
ooman  like  me,  I  dare  say." 

"I  assure  you,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
grasping  the  old  lady's  hand  ;  and  speaking  so  loud 
that  the  exertion  imparted  a  crimson  hue  to  his 
benevolent  countenance;  "  I  assure  you,  ma'am, 
that  nothing  delights  me  more,  than  to  see  a  lady 
of  your  time  of  life  heading  so  fine  a  family,  and 
looking  so  young  and  well." 

"Ah!"  said  the  old  lady,  after  a  short  pause, 
"it's  all  very  fine,  I  dare  say;  but  I  can't  hear 
him." 

"  Grandma's  rather  put  out  now,"  said  Miss  Isa- 
bella Wardle,  in  a  low  tone;  but  she'll  talk  to 
you  presently." 

Mr.  Pickwick  nodded  his  readiness  to  humour 


106  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OP 

the  infirmities  of  age,  and  entered  into  a  general 
conversation  with  the  other  nnembers  of  the  circle. 

"DeHghtful  situation,  this,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Dcli^htfui !"  echoed  Messrs.  Snodgrass,  Tup- 
man,  and  Winkle. 

"Well,  1  think  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Wardle. 

*' There  ain't  a  better  spot  o'  ground  in  all  Kent, 
sir,"  said  the  hard-headed  man  with  the  pippin- 
face ;  "there  ain't,  indeed,  sir — Pm  sure  there 
ain't,  sir;"  and  the  hard-headed  man  looked  tri- 
umphantly round,  as  if  he  had  been  very  much 
contradicted  by.sannebody,  but  had  got  the  better 
of  him  at  last. 

"There  ain't  a  better  spot  o'  ground  in  all  Kent," 
said  the  hard-headed  man  again,  after  a  pause. 

^^'Cept  Mullins'  Meadows,"  observed  the  fat 
man,  solemnly. 

"  Miilliris'  Meadows  !"  ejaculated  the  other,  with 
profound  contempt. 

"Ah.  Mullins'  Meadows,"  repeated  the  fat  man. 

"Reg'lar  good  land,  that,"  interposed  another 
fat  man. 

"And  so  it  is,  surely,"  said  a  third  fat  man. 

"Every  body  knows  that,"  said  the  corpulent 
host. 

The  hard-headed  man  looked  dubiously  round, 
but  finding  himself  in  a  minority,  assumed  a,  com- 
passionate air,  and  said  no  more. 

"What  are  they  talking  about?"  inquired  the 
old  lady  of  one  of  her  giand-daughters,  in  a  very 
audible  voice;  for,  like  many  deaf  people,  she  ne- 
ver seemed  to  calculate  on  the  pos^^ibility  of  other 
persons  hearing  wdiat  she  said  herself. 

"About  the  land,  grandmai' 

^'  What  about  the  land  ?  Nothing  the  matter,  vt 
there?" 

"  No,  no.  Mr.  Miller  was  saying  our  land  was 
better  than  Mullins'  Meadows." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  107 

"How  should  he  know  any  thing  about  it?"  in- 
quired the  old  lady,  indignantly.  "  Miller's  a  con- 
ceited coxcomb,  and  you  may  tell  him  1  said  so." 
Saying  which,  the  old  lady,  quite  unconscious  that 
she  had  spoken  above  a  whisper,  drew  herself  up, 
and  looked  carving  knives  at  the  hard-headed  de- 
linquent. 

"Come,  come,"  said  the  bustling  host,  with  a 
natural  anxiety  to  change  the  conversation, — 
"What  say  you  to  a  rubber,  Mr.  Pickwick?" 

'^1  should  like  it  of  all  things,"  replied  that  gen- 
tleman ;  "  but  pray  don't  make  up  one  on  my  ac- 
count." 

"Oh,  1  assure  you,  mother's  very  fond  of  a  rub- 
ber," said  Mr.  Wardle;  "ain't  you,  mother?" 

The  old  lady,  who  was  much  less  deaf  on  this 
subject  than  on  any  other,  replied  in  the  affirma- 
tive. 

"Joe,  Joe," -said  the  old  gentleman — ''Joe — 
oh,  here  he  is;  put  out  the  card-tables." 

The  lethargic  youth  contrived,  without  any  ad- 
ditional rousing,  to  set  out  two  card  tables;  the 
one  for  Pope  Joan,  and  the  otiier  for  whist.  The 
whist-players  were,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  the  old 
lady;  Mr.  Miller  and  the  fat  gentleman.  The 
round  game  comprised  the  rest  of  the  company. 

The  rubber  was  conducted  with  all  that  gravity 
of  deportment,  and  sedateness  of  demeanour,  which 
befit  the  pursuit  entitled  "  whist " — a  solemn  obser- 
vance, to  which,  as  it  appears  to  us,  the  title  of 
"  game"  has  been  very  irreverently  and  ignomini- 
ously  applied.  The  round-game  table,  on  the  other 
hand,  was  so  boisterously  merry,  as  materially  to 
interrupt  the  contemplations  of  Mr.  Miller,  who 
not  being  quite  so  much  absorbed  as  he  ought  to 
have  been,  contrived  to  commit  various  high  crimes 
and  misdemeanors,   which  excited  the    wrath  of 


108  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

the  fat  gentleman  to  a  very  great  extent,  and  called 
forth  the  good-humour  of  the  old  lady  in  a  propor- 
tionate degree. 

"  There  !"  said  the  criminal  Miller  triumphantly, 
as  he  took  up  the  odd  trick  at  the  conclusion  of  a 
hand;  "that  could  not  have  been  played  better,  I 
flatter  myself; — impossible  to  have  made  another 
trick  !" 

"Miller  ought  to  have  trumped  the  diamond, 
oughtr'/t  he,  sir?"  said  ihe  old  lady. 
Mr.  Pickwick  nodded  assent. 
*'  Ou^ht  I,  though?'  said  the  unfortunate,  with  a 
doubtful  appeal  to  fiis  partner. 

"  You  ought,  sir,"  said  the  fat  gentleman  in  an 
awful  voice. 

"Very  sorry,"  said  the  crest-fallen  Miller. 
*'Much  use  that,"  growled  the  fat  gentleman. 
"Two  by  honours — makes  us  eight,"  said  Mr. 
t*ickwick. 

Another  hand.  "Can  you  one?"  inquired  the 
old  lady. 

<'l  can,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  "Double,  single, 
and  the  rub." 

"Never  was  such  luck,"  said  Mr.  Miller. 
"Never  was  such  cards,"  said  the  fat  gentle- 
man. 

A  solemn  silence;  Mr.  Pickwick  humorous,  the 
old  lady  serious,  the  fat  gentleman  captious,  and 
Mr.  Miller  timorous. 

"Another  double," said  the  old  lady:  triumphant- 
ly making  a  memorandum  of  the  circumstance,  by 
placing  one  sixpence  and  a  battered  halfpenny, 
under  Ihe  candlestick. 

"A  double,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
"Quite  axVare  of  the  fact,  sir,"  replied  the  fat 
gentleman,  sharply. 

Another  game,  with  a  similar  result,  was  follow- 
ed by  a  revoke  from  the  unlucky  Miller;  on  which 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  109 

the  fnt  gentleman  burst  into  a  state  of  high  per- 
sonal excitement  which  lasted  until  the  conclusion 
of  the  game,  when  he  retired  into  a  corner,  and  re- 
mained perfectly  mute  for  one  hour  and  twentjr^ 
seven  minutes;  at  the  end  of  which  time,  he  emerged 
from  his  retirement,  and  offered  Mr.  Pickwick  a 
pinch  of  snuff  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  had 
made  up  his  mind  to  a  Christian  forgiveness  of  in- 
juries sustained.  The  old  lady's  hearing  decidedly 
improved,  and  the  unlucky  Miller  felt  as  much  out 
of  his  element,  as  a  dolphin  in  a  sentry-box. 

Mean  while  the  round  game  proceeded  right 
merrily.  Isabella  VVardle  and  Mr.  Trundle  "went 
partners,"  and  Emily  Wardle  and  Mr.  Snodgrass 
did  the  same;  and  even  Mr.  Tupman  and  the  spin- 
ster aunt,  established  a  joint-stock  company  of  fish 
and  flattery.  Old  Mr.  Wardle  was  in  the  very 
height  of  his  jollity ;  and  he  was  so  funny  in  his 
management  of  ihe  board,  and  the  old  ladies  were  so 
sharp  after  their  winnings,  that  the  whole  table  was 
in  a  perpetual  roar  of  merriment  and  laughter. 
There  was  one  old  lady  who  always  had  about 
half  a  dozen  cards  to  pay  for,  at  which  every  bod}^ 
laughed  regularly  every  round ;  and  when  the  oM 
lady  looked  cross  at  having  to  pay,  they  laughed 
louder  than  ever ;  on  which  the  old  lady's  face 
gradually  brightened  up,  till  at  last  she  laughed 
louder  than  any  of  them.  Then,  when  the  spinster 
aunt  got  "  matrimony,"  the  young  ladies  lauglied 
afresh,  anci  fhe  spinster  aunt  seemed  disposed  to 
be  pettish ;  till,  feeling  Mr.  Tupman  squeezing  her 
hand  under  the  table,  she  brightened  up  too,  and 
looked  rather  knowing  as  if  matrimony  in  reality 
were  not  quite  so  far  off  as  some  people  thought 
for;  whereupon  every  body  laughed  again,  and 
especially  old  Mr.  Wardle,  who  enjoyed  a  joke  as 
much  as  the  youngest.  As  to  Mr.  Snodgrass  he 
did  nothing  but  whisper  poetical  sentiments  into 
10 


110  POSTHUMOUS  TAPERS  OF 

his  partner's  ear,  \vhich  made  one  old  gentleman  fa- 
cetiously sly,  about  partnerships  at  cards,  and  part- 
nerships for  life,  and  caused  the  aforesaid  old  gen- 
tleman to  make  some  remarks  thereupon,  accom- 
panied with  divers  winks  and  chuckles,  which 
made  the  company  very  merry  and  the  old  gentle- 
iTian's  wife  especially  so.  And  Mr.  Winkle  came 
out  with  jokes  which  are  very  well  known  in  town, 
but  are  not  at  all  known  in  thecountr)^;  and  as  every 
body  laughed  at  them  very  heartily  and  said  they 
were  very  capital,  Mr.  Winkle  was  in  a  state  of 
great  honour  and  glory.  And  the  benevolent  clergy- 
man looked  pleasantly  on;  for  the  happy  iaces 
which  surrounded  the  table  made  the  good  old  man 
feel  happy  too;  and  though  the  n;erriment  was 
rather  boisterous,  still  it  came  from  the  heart  and 
not  from  the  lips :  and  this  is  the  riglu  sort  of  mer- 
riment, after  ail. 

The  evening  glided  swiftly  away,  in  these  clieer- 
f'ul  recreations;  and  when  the  substantial,  though 
homely  supper  had  been  despatched,  and  the  little 
party  formed  a  social  circle  round  tlic  fire,  Mr. 
rickwick  thought  he  had  never  felt  so  haj)py  in 
his  life,  and  at  no  time  so  much  disposed  to  enjoy, 
mid.  make  the  most  of,  tlie  passing  moments. 

"Now  this,"  said  the  hospitable  host,  who  was 
sitting  in  great  state  next  the  old  lady's  arrfl  chair, 
with  her  hand  fast  clasped  in  his — "  This  is  just 
what  I  like — the  happiest  moments  of  my  life  have 
been  passed  at  this  old  fire-side:  and  1  am  so  at- 
tached to  it,  that  I  keep  up  a  blazing  fire  here 
every  evening,  until  it  actually  grows  too  hot  to 
bear  it.  Why  my  poor  old  mother,  here,  used  to 
sit  before  this  fire-place  upon  that  little  stool,  when 
she  was  a  girl — didn't  you  mother?" 

The  tear  which  starts  unbidden  to  the  eye  when 
the  recollection  of  old  times  and  the  happiness  of 
many  years  ago,  is  suddenly  recalled,  stole  down  the 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  HI 

old  lady's  face,  as  she  shook  her  head  with  a  me- 
lancholy smile. 

''  You  must  excuse  my  talking  about  this  old 
place,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  resumed  the  host,  after  a 
short  pause — "  for  I  love  it  dea  rly,  and  know  no  other 
— -the  old  houses  and  fields  seetn  like  living  friends 
to  me:  and  so  does  our  little  church  with  the  ivy, 
about  which  by-the-by»  our  excellent  friend  there, 
made  a  song  when  he  first  came  amongst  us.  Mr. 
Snodgrass  have  you  any  thing  in  your  glass?' 

"  Plenty,  thank  you,"  replied  that  gentleman, 
whose  poetic  curiosity  had  been  greatly  excited 
by  the  last  observation  of  his  entertainer.  *'  I  beg- 
your  pardon,  but  you  were  talking  about  the  song 
of  the  Ivy." 

"You  must  ask  our  friend  opposite  about  that," 
said  the  host  knowingly:  indicating  the  clergyman 
by  a  nod  o(  his  head. 

"May  I  say  that  I  should  like  to  hear  you  re- 
peat it,  sir?'  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"Why  really,"  replied  the  clergyman,  "il'sa^ 
very  slight  affair;  and  the  only  excuse  I  have  for 
having  ever  perpetrated  it,  is,  that  I  was  a  young 
man  at  the  time.  Such  as  it  is,  however,  you 
shall  hear  it  if  you  wish." 

A  murmur  of  curiosity  was  of  course  the  reply  ; 
and  the  old  gentleman  proceeded  to  recite,  with 
the  aid  of  sundry  promptmgs  from  his  wife,  the 
lines  in  question.     "  I  call  them,"  said  he, 


THE  IVY  GREEN. 


Oh,  a  dainty  plant  is  the  Ivy  greSn, 

That  creepeth  o'er  ruins  old! 

Of  right  ciioice  food  are  his  meals,  I  weenj 

In  his  cell  so  lone  and  cold. 

The  wall  must  be  crumbled,  the  stone  decayed,. 

Xq  pleagure  his  dainty  whim;. 


112  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

And  the  mouldering'  dust  that  years  have  made, 

I^  a  merry  meal  for  him. 

Creeping-  where  no  life  is  seen, 
A  rare  old  plant  is  the  Ivy  green. 

Fast  he  stealeth  on  tliotigh  he  wears  no  wings. 

And  a  staunch  old  heart  has  he. 

How  closely  he  twineth,  how  tight  he  clings, 

To  his  friend  the  huge  Oak  Tree! 

And  slily  he  IraiK  th  along  the  ground. 

And  his  leaves  he  gf  ntly  waves, 

As  he  joyously  hugs  and  crawleth  round 

The  rich  mould  of  deaM  men's  graves. 

Creeping  where  grim  death  has  been, 
A  rare  old  ])lant  is  the  Ivy  green. 

Wliole  ages  have  fled  and  their  woiks  decayed. 

And  nations  have  scattered  been; 

But  the  stout  old  Ivy  siiall  never  fade, 

From  its  hale  and  hearty  green. 

The  brave  old  plant  in  its  lonely  days, 

Shall  flitten  upon  the  past: 

For  the  stateliest  bu  Uhng  man  can  raise. 

Is  the  Ivy's  food  at  last. 

Creefdng  on,  where  time  has  been, 
A  rare  old  plant  is  the  Ivy  green. 

While  the  old  geiitleman  repealed  these  lines  a 
second  time,  to  enabic  Mr.  Snodgrass  to  note  tlieni 
down,  Mr.  Pickwick  perused  the  lineaments  of  his 
face  with  an  expression  of  great  interest.  The  old 
gentleman  having  concluded  his  dictation,  and  Mr. 
Snodgrass  having  returned  his  note-book  to  his 
pocket,  Mr.  Pickwick  said, — 

"Excuse  me,  sir,  for  making  the  remark  on  so 
short  an  acquaintance;  but  a  gentleman  like  your- 
self cannot  iail,  I  should  think,  to  have  observed 
many  scenes  and  incidents  worth  recording,  in  the 
course  of  your  experience  as  a  minister  of  the 
Gospel." 

"I  have  witnessed  some  certainly,"  replied  the 
old  gentleman ;  "but  the  incidents  and  characters 
have  been  of  a  homely  and  ordinary  nature,  my 
sphere  of  action,  beingso  very  limited." 


iME  PiCKWicir  club:  113^ 

'*  You  did  make  some  notes,  T  think,  about  John 
Edmunds,  did  you  not?"  inquired  Mr.  Wardle  who 
appeared  very  desirous  to  draw  his  friend  out,  for 
the  edification  of  his  new  visiters. 

The  old  gentleman  slightly  nodded  his  head  in 
token  of  assent,  and  was  proceeding  to  change  the 
subject,  when  Mr.  Pickwick  said, — • 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir  ;  but  pray,  if  I  may  ven- 
ture to  inquire,  who  was  John  Edmunds?' 

"  The  vei^y  thing  I  was  about  to  ask,"  said  Mr. 
Snodgrass,  eagerly.. 

"  You  are  fairly  in  for  it,"  said  the  jolly  host. 
"  You  must,  satisfy  the  curiosity  of  these  gentle- 
men, sooner  or  later;  so  you  had  better  take  ad- 
vantage of  this  favourable  opportunity,  and  do  so 
at  once." 

The  old  gentleman  smiled  good-humouredly  a's 
he  drew  his  chair  forward; — the  remainder  of  the 
party  drew  their  chairs  closer  together,  especially 
Mr.  Tupman  and  the  spinster  aunt,  who  were  pos- 
sibly rather  hard  of  hearing ;  and  the  old  lady's  ear- 
trumpet  having  been  duly  adjusted,  and  Mr.  Mil- 
ler (who  had  fallen  asleep  during  the  recital  of  the 
verses)  roused  from  his  slumbers  by  an  admoni- 
tory pinch,  administered  beneath  the  table  by  his 
ex-partner  the  solemn  fat  man,  the  old  gentleman, 
without  further  preface,  commenced  the  following 
tale,  to  which  we  have  taken  the  liberty  of  prefix- 
insf  the  title  of 


THE  CONVICT'S  RETURN. 

"When  1  first  settled  in  this  village,"  said  the 
old  gentleman,  "  which  is  now  just  five-and-twenty 
years  ago,  the  most  notorious  person  among  my 
parishioners  was  a  man  of  the  name  of  Edmunds, 
who  leased  a  small  farm  near  this  spot.  He  was 
10* 


114  PO-      :  JMOUS  PAPEHIS  (>¥> 

a^  morose,  savaiic-hcartccl,  bad  man:  idle  and:  dis-- 
solute  in  his  habit- ;  cruel  and  ferocious  in  his  dis- 
position. Beyond  ihe  few  lazy  and  reckless  vaga- 
bonds with  whom  iic  sauntered  away  his  time  in 
the  fields,  or  sotted  in  the  ale-house,  he  had  not  a 
single  friend  or  acquaintance;  no  one  cared  to 
speak  to  the  man  w  horn  many  feared,  and  every 
one  detested — and  Edmunds  was  shunned  by  all. 

"This  man  had  a  wife  and  one  son,  who,  when 
P  first  came  here,  ivas  about  twelve  years  old.  Of 
the  acuteness  of  that  woman's  sufferings,  of  the 
gentle  and  enduring  manner  in  which  she  bore 
them,  of  the  agony  of  solicitude  with  which  she 
reared  that  boY,  no  one  can  form  an  adequate  con- 
ception. Heaven  forgive  me  the  supposition,  if  it 
be  an  uncharitable  one,  but  I  do  firmly  and  in  my 
soul  believe,  that  the  man  systematically  tried  for 
many  years  to  break  her  heart;  but  she  bore  it 
^11  for  her  child's  sake,  and,  however  strange  it 
may" seem  to  many,  for  his  father's  too;  for  brute 
j^s  he  was,  and  cruelly  as  he  treated  her,  she  had 
loved  him  once;  and  the  recollection  of  what  he 
had  been  to  her,  awakened  feelings  of  forbear- 
ance and  meckricss  under  suffering  in  her  bosom, 
tp  which  all  Goi-Vs  creatures,  but  women,  are 
stransjers. 

"  They  were  poor — they  could  not  be  otherwise 
when  the  man  pursued  such  courses;  but  the  wo- 
man's unceasing  and  unwearied  exertions,  early 
and  late,  morning,  noon,  and  nijzht,  kept  them 
above  actual  want.  Those  exertions  were  but  ill 
r^epaido  People  who  passed  the  spot  in  the  evening 
-^sometimes  at  a  late  hour  of  the  night — reported 
that  they  had  heard  the  moans  and  sobs  of  a  wo- 
man in  distress,  and  the  sound  of  blows;  and  more 
than  once,  when  it  was  past  midnight,  the  boy 
knocked  softly  at  the  door  of  a  neighbour's  house,^ 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  115 

whither  he  had  been  sent,  to  escape  the  drunken 
fury  of  his  unnatural  father. 

"During  the  whole  of  this  time,  and  when  the 
poor  creature  often  bore  about  her  marks  of  ill 
usage  and  violence  which  she  could  not  w^holly 
conceal,  she  was  a  constant  attendant  at  our  little- 
church.  Regularly  every  Sunday,  morning  and 
afternoon,  she  occupied  the  same  seat  with  the  boy 
at  her  side ;  and  though  they  were  both  poorly, 
dressed, — much  mote  so  than  many  of  their  neigh-, 
hours  who  were  in  a  lower  station— they  were  al-. 
ways  neat  and  clean.  Everyone  had  a  friendly 
nod  and  a  kind  word  for  'poor  Mrs.  Edmunds;' 
and  sometimes,  when  she  stopped  to  exchange  a, 
few  words  with  a  neighbour  at-  the  conclusion  of 
the  service  in  the  little  row  of  elm  trees  which  leads 
to  the  church  porch,  or  lingered  behind  to  gaze 
wnth  a  mother's  pride  and  fondness  upon  her  heahhy 
boy,  as  lie  sported  before  her  with  some  little  com- 
panions, her  care-worn  face  would  lighten  up  with 
an  expression  of  heartfelt  gratitude;  and  she  would 
look,  if  not  cheerful  and  happy,  at  least  tranquil, 
and  contented. 

"Five  or  six  years  passed  away;  the  boy  had 
become  a  robust  and  well-grown  youth, .  The  time 
that  had  strengthened  the  child's  slight  frame,  and 
knit  his  weak  limbs  into  the  strength  of  manhood, 
had  bowed  his  mother's  form,  and  enfeebled  her 
steps :  but  the  arm  that  should  have  supported  her> 
was  no  longer  locked  in  hers;  the  face  that  should 
have  cheered  her,  no  more  looked  upon  her  own. 
She  occupied  her  old  seat,  but  there  was  a  vacant 
one  beside  her.  The  Bible  was  kept  as  carefully 
as  ever,  the  places  were  found  and  folded  down  as 
they  used  to  be;  but  there  was  no  one  to  read  it 
with  her — and  the  tears  fell  thick  and  fast  upon. 
1h$  book,  and  blotted  the  words  from -her  eyeso. 


116  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

Neighbours  were  as  kind  as  lliey  were  wont  to  be 
of  old,  but  she  shunned  their  greetings  with  avert- 
ed licad.  There  was  no  lingering  among  the  old 
elm  trees  now — no  cheering  anticipations  of  happi- 
ness yet  in  store.  The  desolate  woman  drew  her 
bonnet  closer  over  her  face,  and  walked  hurriedly 
away. 

''  Shall  I  tell  you,  that  the  young. man,  who,  look- 
ing back  to  the  earliest  of  his  childhood's  days  to 
which  memory  and  consciousness  extended,  and 
carrying  his  recollection  down  to  that  moment, 
Gould  remember  nothing  which  was  not  in  some 
way  connected  with,  a  long  series  of  voluntary 
privations  suffered  by  his  m.other  for  his  sake,  with 
ill  usage,. and  insult,  and  violence,  and  all  endured 
for  him; — shall  I  tell  you,  that  he,  with  a  reckless 
disregard  of  her  breaking  heart,  and  a  sullen  wilful 
forgetfulness  of  all  she  had  done  and  borne  for 
him,  had  linked  himself  with  depraved  and  aban- 
doned men,  and  was  madly  pursuing  a  headlong 
career,  which  must  bring  death  to  him,  and  shame 
to  her?  Alas  for  human  nature !  You  have  an- 
ticipated it  long  since. 

"  The  measure  of  the  unhappy  woman's  misery 
and  misfortune  was  about  to  be  completed.  Nu- 
merous offences  had  been  committed  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood: the  perpetrators  remained  undiscovered, 
and  their  boldness  increased.  A  robbery  of  a 
daring  and  aggravated  nature  occasioned  a  vigi- 
lance of  pursuit,  and  a  strictness  of  search,  they 
had  not  calculated  on..  Young  Edmunds  was  sus- 
pected with  three  companions.  He  was  appre- 
hended— committed— tried — condemned  to  die. 

"The wild  and  piercing  shriek  from  a  woman's 
voice,  which  resounded  through  the  court  when  tlie 
solemn  sentence  was  pronounced,  rings  in  my  ears 
JVt.this  moment.     That  cry  struck  a  terror  to  the. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  117 

culprit's  heart,  which  trial,  condemnation,  the  ap- 
proach of  death  itself,  had  failed  to  awaken.  The 
lips,  which  had  been  compressed  in  dogged  suH'en- 
ness throughout, quivered  and  parted  involuntarily; 
the  face  turned  ashy  pale,  as  the  cold  perspiration, 
broke  forth  from  every  pore ;  the  sturdy  limbs  of 
the  felon  trembled,  and  he  staggered  in  the  dock. 

"  In  the  tirst  transports  of  her  mental  anguish, 
the  suffering  mother  threw  herself  upon  her  knee& 
at  my  feet,  and  fervently  besought  the  Almighty 
Being,  who  had  hitherto  supported  her  in  all  her 
troubles,  to  release  her  from  a  world  of  wo  and 
misery,  and  to  spare  the  life  of  her  only  child.  A 
burst  of  grief,  and  a  violent  struggle,  such  as  I 
hope  1  may  never  have  to  witness  again,  succeed- 
ed. I  knew  that  her  heart  was  breaking  from  that 
hour;  but  I  never  once  heard  complaint  or  murmur 
escape  her  lips. 

"It  was  a  piteous  spectacle  to  see  that  woman 
in  the  prison-yard  from  day  to  day,  eagerly,  and: 
fervently  attempting,  by  affection  and  entreaty,  to- 
soften  the  hard  heart  of  her  obdurate  son.  It  was 
in  vain.  He  remained  moody,  obstinate,  and  un- 
moved. Not  even  the  unlooked-for  commutation, 
of  his  sentence  to  transportation  for  fourteen  years*, 
softened  for  an  instant  the  sullen  hardihood  of  his 
dem.eanour. 

"But  the  spirit  of  resignation  and  endurance 
that  had  so  long  upheld  her,  was  unable  to  contend 
against  bodily  weakness  and  infirmity.  She  fell 
sick.  She  dragged  her  tottering  limbs  from  the 
bed  to  visit  her  son  once  more,  but  her  strength 
failed  her,  and  she  sunk  powerless  on  the  ground. 

"  And  now  the  boasted  coldness  and  indiirerence 
of  the  young  man  were  tested  indeed  ;  and  the  re- 
tribution that  fell  heavily  upon  him,  nearly  drove 
him.  mad,     A  day  passed,  away,  and  his  nriother 


118  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

was  not  there;  aaother  flew  by,  and  she  came  not 
Hear  him ;  a  third  evening  arrived,  and  yet  he  had 
not  seen  her;  and  in  four-and-tvventy  hours,  he 
was  to  be  separated  from  her — perhaps  for  ever. 
Oh  !  how  the  long  forgotten  thoughts  of  former 
days  rushed  upon  his  mind,  as  he  almost  ran  up  and 
down  the  narrow  yard— as  if  intelligence  would  ar- 
rive the  sooner  for  kis  hurrying;  and  how^  bitterly 
a  sense  of  his  helplessness  and  desolation  rushed 
upon  him,  when  he  heard  the  truth  !  His  mother, 
the  only  parent  he  had  ever  known,  lay  ill — it 
might  ho,  dying — within  one  mile  of  the  ground 
he  stood  on  ;  were  he  free  and  unfettered,  a  few^ 
minutes  would  place  him  by  her  side.  He  rushed 
to  the  gate,  and,  grasping  the  iron  rails  with  the 
energy  of  desperation,  shook  it  till  it  rang  again, 
and  threw  himself  against  the  thick  wall  as  if  to 
force  a  passage  through  the  stone;  but  the  strong 
building  mocked  his  feeble  efforts,  and  he  beat  his 
hands  together  and  wept  like  a  child. 

"I  bore  the  mother's  forgiveness  and  blessing  to 
her  son  in  prison;  and  I  carried  his  solemn  as- 
surance of  repentance,  and  his  fervent  supplica- 
tion for  pardon,  to  her  sick  bed.  1  heard,  with 
pity  and  compassion,  the  repentant  man  devise  a 
thousand  little  plans  for  her  comfort  and  support, 
when  he  returned;  but  I  knew  that  many  months 
before  he  could  reach  his  •J)lace  of  destination,  his 
mother  would  be  no  longer  of  this  world. 

"  He  was  removed  by  night.  A  few  weeks  af- 
terwards the  poor  woman's  soul  took  its  flight,  I 
confidently  hope,  and  solemnly  believe,  to- a  place 
of  eternal  happiness  and  rest.  I  performed  the 
burial  service  over  her  remains.  She  lies  in  our 
little  church-yard.  There  is  no  stone  at  her 
grave's  head.  Her  sorrows  were  known  to  man ; 
her  virtues  to  God,. 


THE  PIOKWIGK  CLUB.  1 19 

"  It  had  been  arranged  previously  to  the  con- 
vict's departure,  that  he  should  write  to  his  mother 
as  soon  as  he  could  obtain  permission,  and  that  the 
letter  should  be  addressed  to  me.  The  father  had 
positively  refused  to  see  his  son  from  the  moment 
of  his  apprehension;  and  it  was  a  matter  of  in- 
difference to  him  whether  he  lived  or  died.  Many 
years  passed  over  without  any  intelligence  of  him  ; 
and  when  more  than  half  his  term  of  transporta- 
tion had  expired,  and  I  had  received  no  letter,  I 
concluded  him  to  be  dead,  as,  indeed,  I  almost 
hoped  he  might  be. 

"  Edmunds,  however,  had  been  sent  a  considei-^ 
able  distance  up  the  country,  on  his  arrival  at  the 
settlement ;  and  to  this  circumstance,  perhaps,  may 
be  attributed  the  fact,  that  though  several  letters 
were  despatched,  none  of  them  ever  reached  my 
hands.  He  remained  in  the  same  place  during  the 
whole  fourteen  years.  At  the  expiration  of  the 
term,  steadily  adhering  to  his  old  resolution,  and 
the  pledge  he  gave  his  mother,  he  made  his  way 
back  to  England  amidst  innumerable  difficulties, 
and  returned,  on  foot,  to  his  native  place. 

'^  On  a  fine  Sunday  evening,  in  the  month  of 
August,  John  Edmunds  set  foot  in  the  village  he 
had  left  with  shame  and  disgrace  seventeen  years 
before.  His  nearest  way  lay  through  the  church- 
yard. The  man's  heart  sw^elled  as  he  crossed  the 
stile.  The  tall  old  elms,  through  whose  branches 
the  declining  sun  cast  here  and  there  a  rich  ray  of 
hght  upon  the  shady  path,  awakened  the  associa- 
tions of  his  earliest  days.  He  pictured  himself  as 
he  was  then,  clinging  to  his  mother's  hand,  and 
walking  peacefully  to  church.  He  remembered 
how  he  used  to  look  up  into  her  pale  face ;  and  how 
her  eyes  would  sometimes  fill  with  tears  as  she 
gazed  upon  his  features — tears,  which  fell  hot  upon 


120  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

his  forehead  as  she  stooped  to  kiss  him,  and  made 
him  weep  too,  aUhough  he  Uttle  knew  ttien  what 
bitter  tears  hers  were.  He  thought  how  often  he 
had  run  merril}^  down  that  path  with  some  child- 
ish playfellow,  looking  back,  ever  and  again,  to 
catch  his  mother's  smile,  or  hear  her  gentle  voice; 
and  then  a  veil  seemed  lifted  from  his  memory,  and 
words  of  kindness  unrequited,  and  warnings^  de- 
spised, and  promises  broken,  thronged  upon  his  re- 
collection till  his  heart  failed  him,  and  he  could 
bear  it  no  longer. 

"  He  entered  the  church.     The  evening  service 
was  concluded,  and  the  congregation  had  dispersed; 
but  it  was  not  yet  closed.    His  steps  echoed  through 
the  low  building  with  a  hollow  sound,  and  he  al- 
most feared  to  be  alone,  it  was  so  still  and  quiet. 
He  looked  round  him.    Nothing  was  changed.    The 
place    seemed    smaller    than  it  used    to   be;    but 
there  were  the  old  monuments  on  which  lie  had 
gazed  with  childish  awe  a  thousand  times;  the 
little  pulpit,  with  its  faded  cushion;  the  Commu- 
nion table,  before  which  he  had  so  often  repeated 
the  Commandments  he  had  reverenced  as  a  child, 
and  forgotten  as  a  man.     He  approached  the  old 
seat ;  it  looked  cold  and  desolate.     The  cushion 
had  been  removed,  and  the  Bible  was  not  there. 
Perhaps  his  mother  now  occupied  a  poorer  seat,  or 
possibly  she  had  grown  infirm,  and  could  not  reach 
the  church  alone.     He  dared  not  think  of  what  he 
feared.     A  tiold    feeling  crept  over  him,  and  he 
trembled  violently,  as  he  turned  away.     "  An  old 
man  entered  the  porch  just  as  he  reached  it.     Ed- 
munds started  back,  for  he  knew  him  well  ;  many 
a  time  had  he  watched  him  digging  graves  in  the 
church-yard.     What  would  he  say  to  the  returned 
convict  'i    The  old  man  raised  his  eyes  to  the  stran- 
ger's face,  bid  him  '  good   evening,'  and   walked 
slowly  on.     He  had  forgotten  him. 


THE  PICKWrCK  CLUB.  121 

**  He  walked  down  the  hill,  and  through  the  vil- 
lage. The  weather  was  warm,  and  the  people 
were  sitting  at  their  doors,  or  strolling  in  their  little 
gardens,  as  he  passed,  enjoying  the  serenity  of  the 
evening,  and  their  rest  from  labour.  Many  a  look 
was  turned  towards  him,  and  many  a  doubtful 
glance  he  cast  on  either  side,  to  see  whether  any 
knew  and  shunned  him.  There  were  strange  faces 
in  almost  every  house ;  in  some,  he  recognised  the 
burly  form  of  some  old  school-fellow, — a  boy  when 
he  last  saw  him, — -surrounded  by  a  troop  of  merry 
children :  in  others  he  saw,  seated  in  an  easy- 
chair  at  the  cottage  door,  a  feeble  and  infirm  old 
man,  whom  he  only  remembered  as  a  hale  and 
hearty  labourer :  but  they  had  all  forgotten  him, 
and  he  passed  on  unknown. 

"  The  last  soft  light  of  the  setting  sun  had  fallen 
on  the  earth,  casting  a  rich  glow  on  the  yellow 
corn  sheavG-3,  and  lengthening  the  shadows  of  the 
orchard  trees,  as  he  stood  before  the  old  house — 
the  home  of  his  infancy,  to  which  his  heart  had 
yearned  with  an  intensity  of  affection  not  to  be  de- 
scribed, through  long  and  weary  years  of  captivity 
and  sorrow.  The  paling  was  low — though  he  well 
remembered  the  time  when  it  had  seemed  a  high 
wall  to  him;  and  he  looked  over  into  the  old  gar- 
den. There  were  more  seeds  and  gayer  flowers 
than  there  used  to  be,  but  there  were  the  old  trees 
still — the  very  tree,  under  which  he  had  lain  a 
thousand  times  when  tired  with  playing  in  the  sun, 
and  felt  the  soft  mild  sleep  of  happy  boyhood  steal 
gently  upon  him.  There  were  voices  within  the 
house.  He  listened,  but  they  fell  strangely  upon 
his  ear ;  he  knew  them  not.  They  were  merry, 
too ;  and  he  well  knew  that  his  poor  old  mother 
could  not  be  cheerful,  and  he  away.  The  door 
opened,  and  a  group  of  little  children  bounded  out, 
11 


122  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

shouting  and  romping.  The  father,  with  a  litllc 
boy  in  his  arnns,  appeared  at  tfie  door,  and  they 
crowded  round  hinn,  clapping  their  tiny  hands,  and 
dragging  him  out,  to  join  their  joyous  sports.  The 
convict  thought  on  the  many  times  he  had  shrunk 
from  his  father's  sie;ht  in  that  very  place.  He  re- 
membered how  often  he  had  buried  iiis  trembling 
head  beneath  the  bed-clothes,  and  heard  the  harsh 
word,  and  the  hard  stripe,  and  his  mother's  wail- 
ing; and  though  the  man  sobbed  aloud  with  agony 
of  mind  as  he  left  the  spot,  his  fist  was  clenched, 
and  his  teeth  were  set,  in  fierce  and  deadly  pas- 
sion. 

**  And  such  was  the  return  to  which  he  had  look- 
ed through  the  weary  perspective  of  many  years, 
and  for  which  he  had  undergone  so  much  suffering ! 
No  face  of  welcome,  no  look  of  forgiveness,  no 
house  to  receive,  no  hand  to  help  him — and  this, 
too,  in  the  old  village.  What  was  his  loneliness  in 
the  wild  thick  woods  where  man  was  never  seen, 
to  this ! 

«*He  felt  that,  in  the  distant  land  of  his  bondage 
and  infamy,  he  had  thought  of  his  native  place  as 
it  was  when  he  left  it — not  as  it  would  be,  when  he 
returned.  The  sad  realit}^  struck  coldly  at  his 
heart,  and  his  spirit  sank  within  him.  He  had  not 
courage  to  make  inquiries,  or  to  present  himself  to 
the  only  person  who  was  likely  to  receive  him  with 
kindness  and  compassion.  He  walked  slowly  on; 
and  shunning  the  road-side,  like  a  guilty  man, 
turned  into  a  meadow  ho  well  remembered  ;  and, 
covering  his  face  with  his  hands,  threw  himself 
upon  the  grass. 

"He  had  not  observed  that  a  man  was  lying  on 
the  bank  beside  him ;  his  garments  rustled  as  he 
turned  round  to  steal  a  look  at  the  new  comer ; 
and  Edmunds  raised  his  head. 

"The  man  had  moved  into  a  sitting  posture. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  123 

His  body  was  much  bent,  and  his  face  was  wrin- 
kled and  yellow.  His  dress  denoted  him  an  in- 
mate of  the  workhouse:  he  had  the  appearance 
of  being  very  old,  but  it  looked  more  the  effect 
of  dissipation  or  disease,  than  length  of  years.  He 
was  staring  hard  at  the  stranger — and  though  his 
eyes  were  lustreless  and  heavy  at  first,  they  appear- 
ed to  glow  with  an  unnatural  and  alarmed  expres- 
sion after  they  had  been  fixed  upon  him  for  a  short 
time,  until  they  seemed  to  be  starting  from  their 
sockets.  Edmunds  gradually  raised  himself  to  his 
knees,  and  looked  more  and  more  earnestly  upon 
the  old  man's  face.  They  gazed  upon  each  other 
in  silence. 

"The  old  man  w'as  ghastly  pale.  He  shudder- 
ed and  tottered  to  his  feet.  Edmunds  sprang  to 
his.  He  stepped  back  a  pace  or  two.  Edmunds 
advanced. 

"  '  Let  me  hear  you  speak,'  said  the  convict,  in 
a  thick,  broken  voice. 

'•" '  Stand  off,'  cried  the  old  man,  with  a  dreadful 
oath.     The  convict  drew  closer  to  him. 

"  '  Stand  off,'  shrieked  the  old  man.  Furious 
with  terror  he  raised  his  stick,  and  struck  Ed- 
munds a  heavy  blow  across  the  face. 

"'Father — devil,'  murmured  the  convict,  be- 
tween his  set  teeth.  He  rushed  wildly  forward, 
and  clenched  the  old  man  by  the  throat — but  he 
was  his  father;  and  his  arm  fell  powerless  by  his 
side. 

"  The  old  man  uttered  a  loud  yell  which  rang 
through  the  lonely  fields  like  the  liowl  of  an  evil 
spirit.  His  face  turned  black  ;  the  gore  rushed 
from  his  mouth  and  nose,  and  dyed  the  grass  a 
deep  dark  red,  as  he  staggered  and  fell.  He  had 
ruptured  a  blood  vessel :  and  he  was  a  dead  man 
before  his  son  could  raise  him  from  that  thick, 
sluggish  pool. 


1^4  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS^  OF 

"In  that  corner  of  the  church-yard,"  said  the 
old  gentleman,  after  a  silence  of  a  few  moments — 
"  In  that  corner  of  the  church-yard,  of  which  1 
have  before  spoken,  there  lies  buried  a  man,  who 
was  in  my  employment  for  three  years  after  this- 
event;  and  who  was  truly  contrite,  penitent,  and 
humbled,  if  ever  man  was.  No  one  save  myself 
knew,  in  that  man's  lifetime,  who  he  was,  or 
whence  he  came.  It  was  John  Edmunds,  the  re- 
turned convict." 


T»E  PICKWICK  CLUB.  125 


CHAP lER  VIL 


HOW  MR.  WINKLE,  INSTEAD  OF  SHOOTING  AT  THE 
PIGEON  AND  KILLING  THE  CROW,  SHOT  AT  THE  CROW 
AND  WOUNDED  THE  PIGEON  ;  HOW  THE  DINGLEY 
DELL  CRICKET  CLUB  PLAYED  ALL  MUGGLETON,  AND 
HOW  ALL  MUGGLETON  DINED  AT  THE  DINGLEY  DELL 
EXPENSE  :  WITH  OTHER  INTERESTING  AND  INSTRUC- 
TIVE MATTERS. 

The  fatiguing  adventures  of  the  day  or  the  som- 
niferous influence  of  the  clergyman's  tale,  operated 
so  strongly  on  the  drowsy  tendencies  of  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, that,  in  less  than  five  minutes  after  he  had 
been  shown  to  his  comfortable  bed-room,  he  fell 
into  a  sound  and  dreamless  sleep,  from  which  he 
was  only  awakened  by  the  morning  sun  darting 
his  bright  beams  reproachfully  into  the  apartment, 
Mr.  Pickwick  was  no  sluggard;  and  he  sprang 
like  an  ardent  warrior  from  his  tent- — bedstead. 

"  Pleasant,  pleasant  country,"  sighed  the  enthu- 
siastic gentleman,  as  he  opened  his  lattice  window. 
•'  Who  could  live  to  gaze  from  day  to  day  on  bricks 
and  slates,  who  had  once  felt  the  influence  of  a 
scene  like  this?  Who  could  continue  to  exist, 
where  there  are  no  cows  but  the  cows  on  the  chim- 
ney-pots; nothing  redolent  of  Pan  but  pan-tiles; 
no  crop  but  stone  crop?  Who  could  bear  to  drag 
out  a  life  in  such  a  spot?  Who,  I  ask,  could  en- 
dure it  ?"  and,  having  cross-examined  solitude  aftei: 
11* 


\2Q  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

the  most  approved  precedents,  at  considerable 
length,  Mr.  Pickwick  thrust  his  head  out  of  the  lat- 
tice, and  looked  around  him. 

The  rich,  sweet  snnell  of  the  hay-ricks  rose  to  his 
chamber  window ;  the  hundred  perfumes  of  the 
little  flower-garden  beneath  scented  the  air  around ; 
the  deep-green  meadows  shone  in  the  morning  dew 
that  glistened  on  every  leaf,  as  it  trembled  in  the 
gentje  air;  and  the  birds  sang  as  if  every  sparkling 
drop  were  to  them  a  fountain  of  inspiration.  Mr. 
Pickwick  fell  into  an  enchanting  and  delicious  re- 
verie. 

"  Hallo  !^'  was  the  sound  that  roused  him. 

He  looked  to  the  right,  but  he  saw  nobody;  his 
eyes  wandered  to  the  left,  and  pierced  the  prospect; 
he  stared  into  the  sky,  but  he  wasn't  wanted  there; 
and  then  he  did  what  a  common  mind  would  have 
done  at  once — looked  into  the  garden,  and  there 
saw  Mr.  Wardle. 

"  How  are  you?"  said  that  good-humoured  indi- 
vidual, out  of  breath  with  his  own  anticipations  of 
pleasure.  *' Beautiful  morning,  ain't  it?  Glad  to 
see  you  up  so  early.  Make  haste  down,  and  come 
out     I'll  wait  for  you  here." 

Mr.  Pickwick  needed  no  second  invitation.  Ten 
minutes  sufficed  for  the  completion  of  his  toilet,  and 
at  the  expiration  of  that  time  he  was  by  the  old 
gentleman's  side. 

"Hallo!"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  in  his  turn:  seeing 
that  his  companion  was  armed  with  a  gun,  and  that 
another  lay  ready  on  the  grass.  "  What's  going 
forward  ?" 

"  Why,  your  friend  and  I,"  replied  the  host,  "are 
going  out  rook-shooting  before  breakfast.  He's 
a  very  good  shot,  ain't  he?" 

"  Pve  heard  him  say  he's  a  capital  one,"  replied 
Mr.  Pickwick ;  "  but  I  never  saw  him  aim  at  any 
thing." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  127 

^  Well,"  said  the  host, "  I  wish  hfi'd  come.  Joe — 
Joe." 

The  fat  boy,  who  under  the  exciting  influence 
of  the  nnorning  did  not  appear  to  be  more  than 
three  parts  and  a  fraction  asleep,  emerged  from  the 
house. 

"  Go  up  and  call  the  gentleman,  and  tell  him 
he'll  find  me  and  Mr.  Pickwick  in  the  rookery. 
Show  the  gentleman  the  way  there;  d'ye  hear?' 

The  boy  departed  to  execute  his  commission; 
and  the  host,  carrying  both  guns  like  a  second 
Robinson  Crusoe,  led  the  way  from  the  garden. 

"This  is  the  place,''  said  the  old  gentleman, 
pausing  alter  a  few  minutes  walking,  in  an  avenue 
of  trees.  The  information  was  unnecessary;  for 
the  incessant  cawing  of  the  unconscious  rooks,  suf- 
ficiently indicated  their  whereabout. 

The  old  gentleman  laid  one  gun  on  the  ground, 
and  loaded  the  other. 

"  Here  they  are,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick ;  and  as 
he  spoke,  the  forms  of  Mr.  Tupman,  Mr.  Snod- 
grass,  and  Mr.  Winkle  appeared  in  the  distance. 
The  fat  boy,  not  being  quite  certain  which  gentle- 
man he  was  directed- to  call,  had  with  peculiar 
sagacity,  and  to  prevent  the  possibility  of  any  mis- 
take, called  them  all. 

"Come  along,"  shouted  the  old  gentleman,  ad- 
dressing Mr.  Winkle;  "a  keen  hand  like  you  ought 
to  have  been  up  long  ago,  even  to  such  poor  work 
as  this." 

Mr.  Winkle  responded  with  a  forced  smile,  and 
took  up  the  spare  gun  with  an  expression  of  coun- 
tenance which  a  metaphysical  rook,  impressed 
with  a  foreboding  of  his  approaching  death  by  vio- 
lence, may  be  supposed  to  assume.  It  might 
have  been  keenness,  but  it  looked  remarkably  like 
misery. 

The  old  gentleman  nodded ;   cind  two  ragged 


128  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

boys  who  had  been  marshalled  to  the  spot  under 
the  direction  of  the  infant  Lambert,  forthwith  com- 
menced climbing  up  two  of  the  trees. 

"  What  are  those  lads  for?"  inquired  Mr.  Pick- 
wick abruptly.  He  was  rather  alarmed;  for  he 
was  not  quite  certain  but  that  the  distress  of  the 
agricultural  interest,  about  which  he  had  often 
heard  a  great  deal,  might  have  compelled  the 
small  boys,  attached  to  the  soil,  to  earn  a  pre- 
carious and  hazardous  subsistence  by  making 
marks  of  themselves  for  inexperienced  sportsmen. 

"  Only  to  start  the  game,"  replied  Mr.  Wardle, 
laughing. 

"To  what?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Why,  in  plain  English,  to  frighten  the  rooks." 

"Ohi     Is  that  all?" 

"  You  are  satisfied  ?'' 

"Quite." 

"Very  well.     Shall  I  begin?" 

"  If  you  please,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  glad  of  any 
respite. 

"  Stand  aside,  then.     Now  for  it." 

The  boy  shouted,  and  shook  a  branch  with  a 
nest  on  it.  Plalf  a  dozen  young  rooks  in  violent 
conversation,  flew  out  to  ask  what  the  matter  was. 
The  old  gentleman  fired  by  way  of  reply.  Down 
fell  one  bird,  and  off  flew  the  others. 

"  Take  him  up,  Joe,"  said  the  old  gentleman. 

There  was  a  smile  upon  the  youth's  face  as  he 
advanced.  Indistinct  visions  of  rook-pie  floated 
through  his  imagination.  He  laughed  as  he  re- 
tired with  the  bird — it  was  a  plump  one. 

"Now,  Mr.  Winkle,"  said  the  host,  reloading 
his  own  gun  ;  "  fire  away.'' 

Mr.  Winkle  advanced,  and  levelled  his  gun.  Mr. 
Pickwick  and  his  friends  cowered  involuntarily  to 
escape  damage  from  the  heavy  fall  of  rooks,  which 
they  felt  quite  certain  would  be  occasioned  by  the 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  129 

devastating  barrel  of  iheir  friend.  There  was  a 
solemn  pause — a  shout — a  flapping  of  wings — a 
faint  click. 

"  Hallo  !"  said  the  old  gentleman. 

"  Won't  it  go?"  inquired  Mr,  Pickwick. 

"  Missed  fire,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  who  was  very 
pale,  probably  from  disappointment. 

"  Odd,"  said  the  okl  gentleman,  taking  the  gun. 
"  Never  knew  one  of  them  to  miss  fire  before. 
Why,  I  don't  see  any  thing  of  the  cap.'^ 

"Bless  my  soul,"  said  Mr.  Winkle.  "I  declare 
I  forgot  the  cap  !" 

The  slight  omission  was  rectified.  Mr.  Pick- 
wick crouched  again.  Mr.  Winkle  stepped  for- 
ward with  an  air  of  determination  and  resolution; 
and  Mr.  Tupman  looked  out  from  behind  a  tree. 
The  boy  shouted ; — four  birds  flew  out.  Mr. 
Winkle  fired.  There  was  a  scream  as  of  an  indi- 
vidual— not  a  rook — in  corporeal  anguish,  Mr. 
Tupman  had  saved  the  lives  of  innumerable  unof- 
fending birds,  by  receiving  a  portion  of  the  charge 
in  his  left  arm. 

To  describe  the  confusion  that  ensued  would  be 
impossible.  To  tell  how  Mr.  Pickwick  in  the  first 
transports  of  his  emotion  called  Mr.  Winkle 
"  Wretch  !"  how  Mr.  Tupman  lay  prostrate  on  the 
ground  ;  and  how  Mr.  Winkle  knelt  horror-stricken 
beside  him ;  how  Mr.  Tupman  called  distractedly 
upon  some  feminine  Christian  name,  and  then 
opened  first  one  eye,  and  then  the  other,  and  then 
fell  back  and  shut  them  both  ; — all  this  would  be 
as  difl[icult  to  describe  in  detail,  as  it  would  be  to 
depict  the  gradual  recovering  of  the  unfortunate 
individual,  the  binding  up  his  arm  with  pocket- 
handkerchiefs,  and  the  conveying  him  back  by 
slow  degrees  supported  by  the  arms  of  his  anxious 
friends. 

They  drew  near  the  house.^    The  ladies  were  at 


130  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

the  garden-g^ate,  waiting  for  their  arrival  and  their 
breakfast.  The  spinster  aunt  appeared  ;  she  smiled  ; 
and  beckoned  them  to  walk  quicker.  'Twas  evi- 
dent she  knew  not  of  the  disaster.  Poor  thing! 
There  are  times  when  ignorance  is  bliss  indeed. 

They  approached  nearer. 

"Why,  what  is  the  matter  with  the  little  old 
gentleman'?"  said  Isabelle  Wardle.  The  spinster 
aunt  heeded  not  the  remark  ;  slie  tliouclit  it  applied 
to  Mr.  Pickwick.  In  her  eyes  Tracy  Tupman  was 
a  youth ;  she  viewed  his  years  through  a  diminish- 
ing glass. 

"Don't  be  frightened,"  called  out  the  old  host 
fearful  of  alarming  his  daughters.  The  little  party 
had  crowded  so  completely  round  Mr.  Tupman, 
that  they  could  not  yet  clearly  discern  the  nature 
of  the  accident. 

"  Don't  be  frightened,"  said  the  host. 

"What's  the  matter?"  screamed  the  ladies. 

"Mr.  Tupman  has  met  with  a  little  accident; 
that's  all." 

The  spinster  aunt  utterred  a  piercing  scream, 
burst  into  an  hysteric  laugh,  and  fell  backwards  in 
the  arms  of  her  nieces. 

"  Throw  some  cold  water  over  her,"  said  the 
old  gentleman. 

"No,  no,"  murmured  the  spinister  aunt:  "I  am 
better  now.  Bella,  Emily — a  surgeon !  Is  he 
wounded? — Is  he  dead? — Is  he — ha,  ha,  ha,  ha!" 
Here  the  spinster  aunt  burst  into  a  fit  number  two, 
of  hysteric  laughter,  interspersed  with  screams. 

"  Calm  yourself,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  affected 
almost  to  tears  by  this  expression  of  sympathy 
with  his  sufferings.  "  Dear,  dear  madam,  calm 
yourself." 

"It  is  his  voice!"  exclaimed  the  spinster  aunt; 
and  strong  symptoms  of  fit  number  three  developed 
themselves  forthwith. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  131 

*'  Do  not  agitate  yourself  I  entreat  you,  dearest 
madam,"  said  Mr/Tupman,  soothingly.  "I  am 
very  little  hurt,  I  assure  you." 

*'  Then  you  are  not  dead!"  ejaculated  the  hyste- 
rical lady.     "  Oh,  say  you  are  not  dead  !" 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Rachael,"  interposed  Mr.  War- 
die,  rather  more  roughly  than  was  quite  consistent 
with  the  poetic  nature  of  the  scene.  "  What  the 
devil's  the  use  of  his  saying  he  isn't  dead  ?" 

"No,  no,  I  am  not,"  said  Mr.  Tupman.  *«  I  re- 
quire no  assistance  but  yours.  Let  me  lean  on 
your  arm,"  he  added  in  a  whisper,  "  oh  Miss 
Ilachael!"  The  agitated  female  advanced,  and 
offered  her  arm.  They  turned  into  the  breakfast 
parlour.  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman  gently  pressed  her 
hand  to  his  lips,  and  sank  upon  the  sofa. 

"Are  you  faint?"  inquired  the  anxious  Rachael. 

"No,"' said  Mr.  Tupman.  *' It  is  nothing.  I 
shall  be  better  presently."     He  closed  his  eyes. 

"  He  sleeps,"  murmured  the  spinster  aunt.  (His 
organs  of  vision  had  been  closed  nearly  twenty 
seconds,)     "  Dear — dear — Mr.  Tupman." 

Mr.  Tupman  jumped  up — "Oh,  say  those  words 
again !"  he  exclaimed. 

The  lady  started.  "  Surely  you  did  not  hear 
them!"  she  said  bashfully. 

"  Oh  yes  I  did,"  replied  Mr.  Tupman;  "  repeat 
them.  If  you  would  have  me  to  recover,  repeat 
them." 

"Hush  !"  said  the  lady.     "My  brother." 

Mr.  Tracy  Tupman  resumed  his  former  position  ; 
and  Mr.  Wardie  accompanied  by  a  surgeon,  en- 
tered the  room. 

The  arm  was  examined,  the  wound  dressed,  and 
pronounced  to  be  a  very  slight  one;  and  the  minds 
of  the  company  having  been  thus  satisfied,  they 
proceeded  to  satisfy  their  appetites  with  counte- 
nances to  which  an  expression  of  cheerfulness  was 


132  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

again  restored.  Mr.  Pickwick  alone  was  silent 
and  reserved.  Doubt  and  distrust  were  exhibited 
in  his  countenance.  His  confidence  in  Mr.  Winkle 
had  been  shaken — greatly  shaken — by  the  proceed- 
ings of  the  morning. 

"  Are  you  a  cricketer!"  inquired  Mr.  Wardle  of 
the  marksman. 

At  any  other  time,  Mr.  Winkle  would  have  re- 
plied in  the  affirmative.  He  felt  the  delicacy  of 
his  situation,  and  modestly  replied,  "  No." 

"Are  you,  sir?"  inquired  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

''I  was  once  upon  a  time,"  replied  the  host: 
"but  I  have  given  it  up  now,  I  subscribe  to  the 
club  here,  but  I  don't  play." 

"The  grand  match  is  played  to-day,  1  believe." 
said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  It  is,"  replied  the  host.  "  Of  course  you  would 
like  to  see  it," 

"  I,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  "am  delighted 
to  view  any  sports  which  may  be  safely  indulged 
in,  and  in  which  the  impotent  eflects  of  unskilful 
people  do  not  endanger  human  life."  Mr.  Pick- 
wick paused,  and  looked  steadily  on  Mr.  Winkle, 
who  quailed  beneath  his  leader's  searching  glance. 
The  great  man  withdrew  his  eyes  after  a  few 
minutes  and  added:  "Shall  we  be  justified  in  leaving 
our  wounded  friend  to  the  care  of  the  ladies'?" 

*'You  cannot  leave  me  in  better  hands,"  said 
Mr.  Tupman. 

"  Q,uite  impossible,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

It  was  therefore  settled  that  Mr.  Tupman  should 
be  left  at  home  in  charge  of  the  females;  and  that 
the  remainder  of  the  guests  under  the  guidance  of 
Mr.  Wardle  should  proceed  to  the  spot,  where  was 
to  be  held  (hat  (rial  of  skill,  which  had  roused 
all  Muggleton  from  its  torpor,  and  inocculated  Ding- 
ley  dell  with  a  fever  of  excitement. 

As  their  walk  which  was  not  above  two  miles  long, 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  133 

lay  through  shady  lanes  and  sequestered  footpaths; 
and  as  their  conversation  turned  upon  the  delight- 
ful scenery  by  which  they  were  on  every  side  sur- 
rounded, Mr.  Pickwick  was  almost  inclined  to  re- 
gret the  expedition  they  had  used,  when  he  found 
himself  in  the  main  street  of  the  town  of  Muggle- 
ton. 

Every  body  whose  genius  has  a  topographical 
bent,  knows  perfectly  well,  that  Muggleton  is  a 
corporate  town,  with  a  mayor,  burgesses,  and 
freemen;  and  any  body  who  has  consulted  the  a'd- 
dresses  of  the  mayor  to  the  freemen,  or  the  free- 
men to  the  mayor,  or  both  to  the  cor^poration,  or 
all  three  to  parliament,  will  learn  from  thence 
what  they  ought  to  have  known  before,  that  Mug- 
gleton is  an  ancient  and  loyal  borough.,  mingling 
a  zealous  a,dvocacy  of  Christian  principles  wiUi  a 
devoted  attachment  to  commercial  rights;  in  de- 
monstration whereof,  the  mayor,  corporation,  and 
other  inhabitants,  have  presented  at  divers  times, 
no  fewer  than  one  thousand  four  hundred  and 
twenty  petitions,  against  the  continuance  of  negro 
slavery  abroad,  and  an  equal  numbe'fr  against  any 
interference  with  the  factory  system  at  homc; 
sixty-eight  for  permitting  the  sale  of  benefices  in 
the  church,  and  eighty-six  for  abolishing  Sunday 
trading  in  the  streets. 

Mr.  Pickwick  stood  in  the  principal  street  of  this 
illustrious  town,  and  gazed  with  an  air  of  curiosity 
not  unmixed  with  interest,  on  the  objects  around 
him.  There  was  an  open  square  for  the  market- 
place; and  in  the  centre  of  it^  a  large  inn  with  a 
sign-post  in  front,  displaying  an  object  very  com- 
mon in  art,  but  rarely  met  with  in  nature— to  wit, 
a  blue  lion  with  three  bow  legs  in  the  air,  balancing 
himself  on  the  extreme  point  of  the  centre  claw  of 
his  fourth  foot.  There  were  within  sight,  an  auc- 
tioneer's and  fire-agency  office,  a  corn-factor's,-  a 
12 


134  POSTHUMOUS  TAPERS  OF 

linen  draper's,  a  saddler's,  a  distiller's,  a  grocer's, 
and  a  shoe  shop — the  last-mentioned  warehouse 
being  also  appropriated  to  the  diffusion  of  hats, 
bonnets,  wearing  apparel,  cotton  umbrellas,  and 
useful  knovvledge.  There  was  a  red-brick  house 
with  a  small- paved  court-yard  in  front,  which  any 
body  might  have  known  belonged  to  the  attorney : 
and  there,  was,  moreover,  another  red- brick  house 
with  Venetian  blinds,  and  a  large  brass  door-plate, 
with  a  very  legible  announcement  that  it  belonged 
tT)  the  surgeon.  A  few  boys  were  making  their 
way  to  the  cricket  field ;  and  two  or  three  shop- 
keepers who  were  standing  at  their  doors,  looked 
as  if  they  should  like  to  be  making  their  way  to  the 
same  spot,  as  indeed  to  all  appearance  they  might 
have  done,  v/ithout  losing  any  great  amount  of  cus- 
tom thereby.  Mr.  Pickwick  having  paused  to  make 
these  observations,  to  be  noted  down  at  a  more  con- 
venient period,  hastened  to  rejoin  his  friends,  who 
had  turned  out  of  the  main  street,  and  v.ere  al- 
ready wdthin  sight  of  the  field  of  battle. 

The  wickets  were  pitched,  and  so  were  a  couple 
of  marqueef  for  the  rest  and  refreshment  of  the 
contending  parties.  The  game  had  not  yet  com- 
TOcnced.  Two  or  three  Dingley  Dellers,  and  All- 
Muggletonians,  were  amusing  themselves  with  a 
majestic  air  by  throwing  the  ball  carelessly  from 
hand  to  hand  ;  and  several  other  gentlemen  dressed 
like  them,  in  straw  hats,  flannel  jackets,  and  white 
trowsers, — a  costume  in  which  they  looked  very 
much  like  amateur  stone-masons^ — w'cre  sprinkled 
about  the  tents,  tow\ards  one  of  which  Mr.  Wardlc 
conducted  the  party. 

Several  dozen  of  "  How-are-yoas?"  hailed  th-e 
old  2;entleman's  arrival ;  and  a  general  raising  of 
the  straw  hats,  and  bending  forward  of  the  flannel 
jackets,  followed  his  introduction  of  his  guests  fts 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  135 

gentlemen  from  London,  who  were  extremely 
anxious  to  witness  the  proceedings  of  the  day,  with 
which,  he  had  no  doubt,  they  would  be  greally  de- 
lighted. 

*'.You  had  better  stejp  into  the  marquee.l  think, 
sir,"  said  one  very  stout  gentleman,  whose  body 
and  legs  looked  like  half  a  gigantic  roll  of  -flannel, 
elevated  on  a  couple  of  inflated  pillow-cases. 

"  You'll  And  it  much  pleasanter,  sir,"  urged 
another  stout  gentleman,  who  strongly  resembled 
the  other  half  of  the  roil  of  flannel  aforesaido 

"  You're  very  good,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  This  way,"  said  tlie  first  speaker ;  "  they  notch 
in  here — it's  the  hest  place  in  the  whole  field  ;"  and 
the  cricketer,  panting  on  before,  proceeded  them  to 
the  tent. 

"Capital  game — smart  sport — fine  exercise — 
very,"  were  the  words  which  fell  upon  Mi*.  Pick- 
wick's ear  as  he  entered  the  iont;  and  the  first  ob- 
ject that  met  his  eyes,  v*^as  his  green  coated /n'^liij 
of  the  Rochester  coach,  holding  forth  to  the  no 
small  delight  and  edification  of  a  select  circle  cf 
the  chosen  of  All-Muggleton.  His  dress  was 
slightly  improved,  and  he  wore  boots ;  but  there 
was  no  mistaking  him. 

The  stranger  recognised  his  friends  inin^^ediately : 
and,  darting  forward  and  seizing  Mr.  Pickwick  by 
the  hand,  dragged  him  to  a  seat  with  his  usual  im- 
petuosity, talking  all  the  while  as  if  the  whole  of 
the  arrangements  were  under  his  especial  patronage 
and  direction. 

"  This  way — this  way — capital  fun — lots  of  beer 
—hogsheads ;  rounds  of  beef— bullocks  ;  mustard 
— cart  loads ;  glorious  day — down  with  you — make 
yourself  at  home — glad  to  see  you — very." 

Mr.  Pickwick  sat  down  as  he  was  bid,  and  Mr, 
Winkle  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  also  complied  with  the 


136  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

directions'of  their  mysterious  friend.  Mr.  Wardle 
looked  on  in  silent  wonder. 

''  Mr.  Wardlc— a  friend  of  mine,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

"  Fricjid  of  yours  ! — My  dear  sir,  how  are  you  ? 
— Friend  of  my  friend's — give  me  your  Iiand,  sir" 
— and  the  stranger  grasped  Mr,  Wardle's  hand 
with  all  the  fervour  of  a  close  intimacy  of  many 
years,  and  then  stepped  back  a  pace  or  two  as  if 
to  take  a  full  survey  of  his  face  and  figure,  and  then, 
shook  hands  wuth  him  again,  if  possible  more  warm- 
ly than  before. 

"Well;  and  how  came  you  here?"  said  JNIr. 
Pickwick,  with  a  smile  in  which  benevolence  strug- 
gled wdth  surprise. 

"  Come.'^  replied  the  stranger — "stopping  at 
Crown— Crown  at  Miiggleton — met  a  party — 
flannel  jackets — white  trowsers— anchovy  sand-^ 
vviches — devilled  kidneys — splendid  fellows — glo- 

Mr.  Pickwick  wJis  sufficiently  versed  in  the . 
stranger's  system  of  stenography  to  infer  from  this, 
rapid  and  disjointed  communication  that  he  had, 
somehow  or  other,  contracted  an  acquaintance  with 
the  Ali-Muggletons,  which  he  had  converted,  by  a 
process  peculiar  to  bimseif,  into  that  extent  of  good 
fellowship  on  which  a  general  invitation  may  be 
easily  founded.  His  curiosity  was  therefore  satis- 
fied, and  putting  on  his  spectacles,  he  prepared 
himself  to  watch  the  play  which  was  just  com- 
mencing. 

All-Muggleton  had  the  first  innings;  and  the  in- 
terest became  intense  when  Mr.  Dumkins,  and  Mr. 
Fodder,  two  of  the  most  renowned  members  of  that 
most  distinguished  club,  walked,  bat  in  hand,  to 
their  respective  wickets.  Mr.  Luffey  the  high- 
est ornament  of  Dingley  Dell  was  pitched  to  bowl 
against  the  redoubtable  Dumkins,  and  Mr,  Strug-. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  IST 

gles  was  selected  to  do  the  same  kind  office  for  the 
hitherto  unconquered  Podder.  Several  players 
were  stationed  to  "  look  out,"  in  different  parts  of 
the  field,  and  each  fixed  himself  into  the  proper 
attitude  by  placing  one  hand  on  each  knee,  and 
stooping  very  much  as  if  he  were  "  making  a  back" 
for  some  beginner  at  leap-frog.  All  the  regular 
players  do  thfs  sort  of  thing  ; — indeed  it's  generally 
supposed  that  it  is  quite  impossible  to  look  out  pro- 
perly in  any  other  position. 

The  umpires  were  stationed  behind  the  wickets; 
the  scorers  were  prepared  to  notch  the  runs ;  a 
breathless  silence  ensued.  Mr.  Luffey  retired  a  few 
paces  behind  the  wicket  of  the  passive  Podder,  and 
applied  the  ball  to  his  right  eye  for  several  seconds. 
Dumkins  confidently  awaited  its  coming,  with#iis 
eyes  fixed  on  the  motions  of  Luffey. 

"  Play,"  suddenly  cried  the  bowler.  The  ball 
flew  from  his  hand  straight  and  swift  towards  the 
centre  stump  of  the  wicket.  The  wary  Dumkins 
was  on  the  alert ;  it  fell  upon  the  tip  of  the  bat, 
:dnd  bounded  far  away  over  the  heads  of  the  scouts, 
who  had  just  stooped  low  enough  to  let  it  fly  over 
them. 

"Run — run — another.  Now,  then,  throw  her 
up — up  with  her — slop  there — another — no— yes 
— no — throw  her  up,  throw  her  up."  Such  were 
the  shouts  which  followed  the  stroke;  and,  at  the 
conclusion  of  which,  All-Muggleton  had  scored 
two.  Nor  was  Podder  behind  hand  in  earning  lau- 
rels wherewith  to  garnish  himself  and  INIuggle- 
ton.  He  blocked  the  doubtful  balls,  missed  the  bad 
ones,  took  the  good  ones,  and  sent  them  flying  to  ail 
parts  of  the  field.  The  scouts  were  hot  and  tired; 
the  bowlers  were  changed,  and  bowled  till  their 
arms  ached  :  but  Dumkins  and  Podder  remained 
unconquered.  Did  an  elderly  gentleman  essay  to 
12* 


138  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  Oi*^ 

stop  the  progress  of  the  ball,  it  rolled  between  Ial^ 
iegSj  or  slipped  between  his  fingers.  Did  a  slini 
gentlen^an  try  to  catch  it,  it  struck  him  on  the 
nose,  and  bounded  pleasantly  off  with  redoubled 
violence,  while  the  slim  gcnlleman^s  eyes  filled 
with  water,  and  his  form  writhed  with  anguish. 
Was  it  thrown  straight  up  to  the  wicket,  Dumkins 
had  reaclied  it  before  the  ball.  In  short,  whea 
Dumkins  was  caught  out,  and  Fodder  stumped  out, 
Ali-Muggleton  bad  notched  some  fifty-four,  while 
the  score  of  the  Dingley  Dellers  was  as  blank  as 
their  faces.  Th^  advantage  was  too  great  to  be 
recovered.  In  vain  did  the  eager  Luffey,  and  the 
enthusiastic  Struggles,  do  all  that  skill  and  expe- 
rience could  suggest,  to  regain  the  ground  Dingley 
Dill  had  lost  in  the  contest ;  it  was  of  no  avail : 
and  in  an  early  period  of  (he  winnhig  game  Din- 
gley Dell  gave  in,  and  allowed  the  superior  prow- 
ess of  All-Muggleton, 

The  stranger,  meanwhile,  had  been  eating,  drink- 
ing, and  talking,  without  cessation.  At  every  good 
stroke  he  expressed  his  satisfaction  and  approval 
of  the  player  in  a  most  condescending  and  patro- 
nizinor  manner,  v.^hich  could  not  fail  to  have  been 
highlv  gratifying  to  the  party  concerned;  while  at 
every  bad  attempt  at  a  catch,  and  every  failure  to 
stop  the  ball,  he  launched  his  personal  displeasure 
at  the  head  of  the  devoted  individual  in  such  de- 
nunciations as — "Ah,  ah! — stupid"— ♦"  Now  but- 
ter-fingers"— "  Mufi" — "  Humbug" — and  so  forth 
-^ejaculations  which  seemed  to  establish  him  in  the 
opinion  of  all  around,  as  a  most  excellent  and  un- 
deniable judge  of  the  whole  art  and  mystery  of  the 
noble  game  of  cricket. 

"Capital  game — well  played — some  strokes  ad- 
mirable," said  the  stranger,  as  both  sides  crowded 
into  the  tent,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  game. 


THE  FICKWICK  CLUB.  139 

^^  You  have  played  it,  sir?"  inquired  Mr.  Wardle, 
wiio  had  been  much  amused  by  his  loquacity. 

"  Played  it !  Think  I  have — thousands  of  times 
— not  here — West  Indies — exciting  thing ;  hot  work 
^ — very." 

"  It-must  be  rather  a  warm  pursuit  in  such  a  cli- 
mate," observed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'•Warm ! — red  hot — scorching — glowing.  Play-  - 
ed  a  match  once — single  wicket — friend,  the  colo- 
nel— Sir  Thomas  Blazo — v^^ho  should  get  the  great- 
est number  of  runs.  Won  the  toss — first  innings 
seven  o'clock,  a.  m.  Six  natives  to  look  out — v^'cnt 
in;  kept  in — heat  intense — natives  all  fainted— 
taken  away :  fresh  half-dozen  ordered — fainted 
also — Blazo  bowling — supported  by  two  natives — • 
couldn't  bowl  me  out — fainted  too — cleared  aw^ay 
the  colonel — wouldn't  give  in — faithful  attendant 
— Quanko  Samba — last  man  left— sun  so  hot,  bat 
in  blisters,  ball  scorched  brown — five  hundred  and 
seventy  runs — rrUher  exhausted— Q,uanko  mustered 
up  last  remaining  strength — bowled  me  out — had 
a  bath,  and  went  out  to  dinner." 

"And  what  became  of  what's-his-namcj  sir?'^ 
inquired  an  old  gentleman. 

"  Blazo  ?" 

"  No — the  other  gentleman,'' 

"Quanko  Samba?' 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"Poor  Quanko — never  recovered  it — bowled 
on,  on  my  account — bowled  off,  on  his  own — died, 
sir."  Here  the  stranger  buried  his  countenance 
in  a  brown  jug;  but  whether  to  hide  his  emotion, 
or  imbibe  its  contents,  we  cannot  distinctly  affirm. 
We  only  know  that  he  paused  suddenly,  drew  a 
long  and  deep  breath,  and  looked  anxiously  on,  as 
two  of  the  principal  members  of  the  Dingley  Dell 
Club  approached  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  said— 
»  "  We  are  about  to  partake  of  a  plain  dinner  at 


140  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

the  Blue  Lion,  sir;  we  hope  you  and  your  friends 
will  join  us." 

"Of  course,"  said  Mr.  Wardle,  "among  our 
friends  we  include  Mijj :"  and  he  looked  to- 
wards the  stranger. 

"  Jingle,"  said  that  versatile  gentleman,  taking 
the  hint  at  once.  "  Jingle— Alfred  Jingle,  Esq.,  of 
N(»iall,  Nowhere." 

"  I  shall  be  very  happy,  I  am  sure,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"So  shall  I,"  said  Mr.  Alfred  Jingle,  drawing 
one  arm  through  Mr.  •Pickwick's,  and  another 
through  Mr.  Wardle's,  as  he  whispered  confiden- 
tially in  the  ear  of  the  former  gentleman: 

"Devilish  good  dinner— cold,  but  capital— peeped 
into  the  room  this  morning — fowls  and  pies,  and 
all  that  sort  of  thing — pleasant  fellows,  theic — well 
behaved,  too — very," 

There  being  no  further  preliminaries  to  arrange, 
the  company  straggled  into  the  town  in  little  knots 
of  twos  and  threes;  and  within  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  were  all  seated  in  th.e  great  room  of  the  Blue 
Lion  Inn,  Muggleton — Mr.  Dumkins  acting  as 
chairman,  and  Mr.  Luffey  officiating  as  vice. 

There  was  a  vast  deal  of  talking,  and  rattling  of 
knives  and  forks,  aitd  plates;  a  great  running  about 
ofthreeponderousheaded  waiters,  and  a  rapid  disap- 
pearance of  the  substantial  viands  on  the  table;  to 
each  and  every  of  which  item  of  confusion,  the  fa- 
cetious Mr.  Jingle  lent  the  aid  of  half-a-dozen  ordi- 
nary men  at  least.  When  every  body  had  eat  as 
much  as  they  could,  the  cloth  was  removed,  bot- 
tles, glasses,  and  dessert  were  placed  ou  the  table: 
and  the  waiters  withdrev/  to  clear  "away,"  or,  in 
other  words,  to  appropriate  to  their  own  private 
use,  and  emolument,  whatever  remnants  of  the 
eatables  and  drinkables  they  could  contrive  to  lay 
their  hands  on. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB,  141 

Amidst  the  general  hum  of  mirth  and  conversa- 
tion that  ensued,  there  was  a  little  man  with  a 
pufly  Say-notliing-to-me,-or-ril-contradict-you  sort 
of  countenance,  who  remained  very  quiet ;  occa- 
sionally looking  round  him  when  the  conversation 
slackened,  as  if  he  contemplated  putting  in  some- 
thing very  weighty :  and  now  and  then  bursting 
into  a  short  cough  of  inexpressible  grandeur.  At 
length,  during  a  moment  of  comparative  silence^ 
the  little  man  called  out  in  a  very  loud,  solemn 
voice. 

''Mr.  Luffey.'' 

Every  body  was  hushed  into  a  profound  stillness 
as  the  individual  addressed,  replied^ 

"  Sir." 

"  I  wish  to  address  a  few  words  to  you  sir,  if 
you  will  entreat  the  gentlemen  to  fill  their  glasses.'^ 

JNIr.  Jingle  uttered  a  patronising  "  hear,  hear," 
which  was  responded*  to,  by  the  remainder  of  the 
company :  and  the  glasses  having  been  filled,  the 
vice-president  assumed  an  air  of  wisdom  in  a  state 
of  profound  attention;  and  said, 

^'  Mr.  Staple.'^ 

^'  Sir,^'  said  the  little  man,  rising,  "I  wish  to  ad- 
dress what  I  have  to  say  to  you  and  not  to  our  wor- 
thy chairman,  because  our  worthy  chairman  is  in 
some  measure — I  may  say  in  a  great  degree — the 
subject  of  what  I  have  to  say,  or  1  m,ay  say  to — to — 

"  State,"  suggested  Mr.  Jingle. 

"Yes,  to  state,"  said  the  little  man,  "  I  thank - 
my  honourable  friend,  if  he  will  allow  me  to' call 
him  so — (four  hears,  and  one  certainly  from  Mr. 
Jingle) — for  the  suggestion.  Sir,  I  am  a  Deller — 
a  Dingley  Deller,  (cheers).  I  cannot  lay  claim  to 
the  honour  of  forming  an  item  in  the  population  of 
Muggleton ;  nor,  sir,  I  will  frankly  admit,  do  I 
coyet  thc\t  honour :  and  I  will  tell  you  why,  sir, 


142  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

(hear;)  to  Muggleton  I  will  readily  concede  all 
those  honours  and  distinctions  to  which  it  can  fairly 
lay  claim — they  are  too  nunnerous  and  too  well 
known  to  require  aid  or  recapitulation  from  me. 
But,  sir,  while  we  remember  that  Muggleton  has 
given  birth  to  a  Dumkins  and  a  Fodder,  let  us 
never  forget  that  Dingley  Dell  can  boast  a  Luffey 
and  a  Struggles.  (Vociferous  cheering.)  Let  me 
not  be  considered  as  wishing  to  detract  from  the 
merits  of  the  former  gentlemen.  Sir,  I  envy  them 
the  luxury  of  their  own  feelings,  on  this  occasion. 
(Cheers.)  Every  gentleman  who  hears  me,  is  pro- 
bably acquainted  with  the  reply  made  by  an  indi- 
vidual, who — to  use  an  ordinary  figure  of  speech 
— '  hung  out'  in  a  tub,  to  the  Emperor  Alexander: 
— <  If  I  were  not  Diogenes,'  said  he,  '  I  would  be 
Alexander.'  I  can  well  imagine  these  gentlemen 
to  sa}^,  '  If  I  were  not  Dumkins  I  would  be  Luffey; 
if  I  were  not  Fodder  I  w^ould  be  Struggles.'  (En- 
thusiasm.) But  gentlemen  of  Muggleton  is  it  in 
cricket  alone  that  your  fellow-townsmen  stand 
pre-eminent  ?  Have  you  never  heard  of  Dumkins- 
and  determination  ?  Have  you  never  been  taught 
to  associate  Fodder  with  property?  (Great  ap- 
plause.) Have  you  never,  when  struggling  for 
your  rights,  your  liberties,  and  your'  privileges, 
been  reduced,  if  only  for  an  instant,  to  misgiving 
and  despair  ?  And  when  you  have  been  thus  de- 
pressed, has  not  the  name  of  Dumkins  laid  afresh 
within  your  breast,  the  fire  which  had  just  gone 
out;  and  lias  not  a  word  from  that  man,  lighted  it 
again  as  brightly  as  if  it  had  never  expired? 
(Great  cheering.)  Gentlemen,  I  beg  you  to  sur- 
round with  a  rich  halo  of  enthusiastic  cheering, 
the  united  names  of 'Dumkins  and  Fodder.'" 

Here  the  little  man  ceased,  and  here  the  company 
commenced  a  raising  of  voices,  and  thumping  oi 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  143 

tables,  which  lasted  with  little  intermission  during 
the  remainder  of  the  evening.  Other  toasts  were 
drunk.  Mr.  LufFey  and  Mr.  Struggles,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick and  Mr.  Jingle,  were,  each  in  his  turn,  the 
subject  of  unqualified  eulogium ;  and  each  in  due 
course  returned  thanks  for  the  honour. 

Enthusiastic  as  we  are  in  the  noble  cause  to 
which  we  have  devoted  ourselves,  we  should  have 
felt  a  sensation  of  pride  which  we  cannot  express, 
and  a  consciousness  of  having  done  something  to 
merit  immortality  of  which  we  are  now  deprived, 
could  w^e  have  laid  the  faintest  outline  of  these 
addresses  before  our  ardent  readers.     Mr.  Snod- 
gvass,  as  usual,  took  a  great  mass  of  notes,  which 
would  no  doubt  have    aflbrded  most    useful  and 
valuable  information,  had    not    the   burning  elo- 
quence of  the  words,  or  the  feverish  influence  pf 
the  wine  made  that  gentleman's  hand  so  extremely 
unsteady,  as  to  render  his  writing  nearly  unintelli- 
gible^ and  his  style  wdioily  so.     By  dint  of  patient 
investigation,  we  have  been  enabled  to  trace  some 
characters    hearing    a   faint   resemblance   to  the 
names  of  the  speakers ;  and  we  can  also  discern  an 
entry  of  a  song  (supposed  to  have  been  sung  by 
Mr.  Jingfe,)  in  which  the  words  "  bowl  "  "  spark- 
ling" "  ruby"  "  bright,"  and  "  wine"  are  frequently 
repeated  at  short  intervals.    We  fiincy  too,  that  we 
can  discern  at  the  very  end  of  the  notes,  some  in- 
distinct reference  to  "  broiled  bones ;"  and  then  the 
words  "  cold"  "  without"  occur:  but  as  any  hypo- 
thesis we  could  found  upon  them  must  necessarily 
rest  upon  mere  conjecture,  we  are  not  disposed  to 
indulge  in  any  of  the  speculations  to  which  they 
may  give  rise. 

We  will  therefore  return  to  Mr.  Tupman;  merely 
adding  that  within  some  few  minutes  before  twelve 
o'clock  that  night,  the  convocation  of  worthies  of 


144  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

Dingley  Dell  and  Muggleton,  were  heard  to  sing 
with  great  feeling  and  emphasis,  the  beautiful  and 
pathetic  national  air,  of 

We~ won't  go  liome  'till  morning", 
We  won't  g-o  home  'till  morning-, 
%  We  won't  go  home  'till  niorning, 

•'Till  daylight  cloth  appear. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  145 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


STRON'GLY  ILLUSTRATIVE  OF  THE   POSlTIOiV,  THAT  THB 
COURSE  OF  TRUE  LOVE   IS  NOT  A  RAILWAY. 

The  quiet  seclusion  of  Dingley  Dell,  the  pre- 
sence of  so  many  of  the  gentler  sex,  and  the  solici- 
tude and  anxiety  they  evinced  in  his  behalf,  were 
all  favourable  to  the  growth  and  development 
of  those  softer  feelings  which  nature  had  implanted 
deep  in  the  bosom  of  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman,  and 
which  now  appeared  destined  to  centre  in  one 
lovely  object.  The  young  ladies  were  pretty,  their 
manners  winning,  their  dispositions  unexceptiona- 
ble :  but  there  was  a  dignity  in  the  air,  a  touch-me- 
notishness  in  the  walk,  a  majesty  in  the  eye  of  the 
spinster  aunt,  to  which,  at  their  time  of  life  they 
could  lay  no  claim,  which  distinguished  her 
from  any  female  on  whom  Mr.  Tupman  had  ever 
gazed.  That  there  was  something  kindred  in  their 
nature,  something  congenial  in  iheir  souls,  some- 
thing mysteriously  sympathetic  in  their  bosoms, 
was  evident.  Her  name  was  the  first  that  rose  to 
Mr.  Tupman's  lips  as  he  lay  wounded  on  the  grass; 
and  her  hysteric  laughter,  vv^as  the  first  sound  that 
fell  upon  his  ear  when  he  was  supported  to  the 
house.  But  had  her  agitation  arisen  from  an  ami- 
able and  feminine  sensibility  which  would  have 
been  equally  irrepressible  in  any  case;  or  had  it  been 
called  forth  by  a  more  ardent  and  passionate  feel- 
ing, which  he,  of  all  men  living,  could  alone  awa- 
ken ?  These  were  the  doubts  which  racked  his 
13 


146  POSTHUMOUS  papers  or 

brain  as  he  lay  extended  on  the  sofa  :  these  were 
the  doubts  which  he  determined  should  be  at  once 
and  for  ever  resolved. 

"  It  was  evening.  Isabella  and  Emily  had  strol- 
led out  with  Mr.  Trundle;  the  deaf  old  lady  had 
fallen  asleep  in  her  chair ;  the  snoring  of  the  fat 
boy,  penetrated  in  a  low  and  monotonous  sound 
from  the  distant  kitchen;  the  buxom  servants  were 
lounging  at  the  side-door,  enjoyiog  the  pleasant- 
ness of  the  hour,  and  the  delights  of  a  flirtation,  on 
first  principles,  wnth  certain  unwieldy  animals  at- 
tached to  the  farm ;  and  there  sat  the  interesting 
pair,  uncared  for  by  all,  caring  for  none,  and  dream- 
ing only  of  themselves:  there  they  sat,  in  short, 
like  a  pair  of  carefully-folded  kid-gloves — bound 
up  in  each  other. 

^'  I  have  forgotten  my  flowers,"  said  the  spinster 
aunt. 

"  Water  them  now,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  in  ac- 
cents of  persuasion. 

''  You  will  take  cold  in  the  evening  air,"  urged 
the  spinster  aunt,  alTectionately. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  rising  ;  "  it  will  do 
me  good.     Let  me  accompany  you." 

The  lady  paused  to  adjust  the  sling  in  which  the 
left  arm  of  the  youth  was  placed,  and  taking  his 
right  arm  led  him  to  the  garden. 

There  was  a  bower  at  the  farther  end,  with 
honeysuckle,  jessamine,  and  creeping  plants — one 
of  those  sweet  retreats,  which  humane  men  erect 
for  the  accommodation  of  spiders. 

The  spinster  aunt  took  up  a  large  watering-pot 
which  lay  in  one  corner,  and  was  about  to  leave 
the  arbour.  Mr.  Tupman  detained  her,  and  drew 
her  to  a  scat  beside  him. 

"  Miss  Wardle  !"  said  he. 

The  spinster  aunt  trembled,  till  some  pebbles 
which  had  accidentally  found  their  way  into  the 
large  watering-pot,  shook  like  an  infant's  rattle. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUE-  147 

"Miss  Wardle,"  said  Mr,  Tupman,  "you  are 
an  angel.*' 

"Mr,  Tupman!"  exclaimed Rachael,  blushing  as 
red  as  the  watering-pot  itself. 

"  JVaj,"  said  the  eloquent  Pickwickian — "I  know 
it  but  too  well." 

"  Ail  women  are  angels,  they  say,"  murmured 
the  lady,  playfully. 

'^  Then  what  can  you  be;  Or  to  what,  without  pre- 
sumption can  I  compare  you?'  replied  Mr.  Tupman. 
"  Where  .was  the  woman  ever  seen  who  resembled 
you'l  Where  else  could  I  hope  to  find  so  rare  a 
combination  of  excellence  and  beauty?  Where  else 

coiild  I  seek  to Oh!"  Here  Mr.  Tupman  paused 

and  presse'd  the  hand  which  clasped  the  handle  of 
the  happy  watering-pot. 

The  lady  turned  aside  her  head.  "  Men  are 
such  deceivers,^'  she  softly  whispered. 

"  They  are,  they  are,"  ejaculated  Mr.  Tupman; 
"but  not  all  men.  There  lives  at  least  one  being 
who  can  never  change — one  being  who  would  be 
content  to  devote  his  whole  existence  to  your 
happiness — who  lives  but  in  your  eyes — who 
breathes  but  in  your  smiles — who  bears  the  heavy 
burden  of  life  itself  only  for  you." 

"Could  such  an  individual  be  found,"  said  the 
lady— - 

"But  he  ca7i  be  found,"  said  the  ardent  Mr. 
Tupman,  interposing.  .  He  is  found.  He  is  here, 
Miss  Wardle."  And  ere  the  lady  was  aware  of 
his  intention,  Mr.  Tupman  had  sunk  upon  his  knees 
at  her  feet. 

"Mr.  Tupman,  rise,"  said  Rachael 

"Never!"  was  the  valorous  reply.     "Oh,  Ra- 
chael !" — He  seized  her  passive  hand,  and  the  wa- 
tering-pot fell  to  the  ground  as  he  pressed  it  to  his 
lips. — "Oh,  Rachael!  say  you  love  me." 
*'Mr.  Tupman,"  said  thespinsterauntj  with  Averts- 


14S  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

ed  head — "I  can  hardly  speak  the  words;  but — 
but — you  are  not  wholly  indifferent  lo  me." 

Mr.  Tupman  no  sooner  heard  this  avowal,  than 
he  proceeded  to  do  what  his  enthusiastic  emotions 
prompted,  and  what,  for  aught  w^e  know,  (for  we 
are  but  little  acquainted  with  such  matters,)  peo- 
ple so  circumstanced  always  do.  He  jumped  up, 
and,  throwing  his  arm  round  the  neck  of  the  spin- 
ster aunt,  imprinted  upon  her  lips  numerous  kisses, 
which  after  a  due  show  of  struggling  and  resistance, 
she  received  so  passively,  that  there  is  no  telling 
how  many  more  Mr.  Tupman  might  have  bestow-. 
ed,  if  the  lady  had  not  given  a  very  unafTected  start 
and  exclaimed  in  an  affrighted  tone, — 

"  Mr.  Tupman,  we  are  observed  ! — we  are  dis- 
covered 1" 

Mr.  Tupman  looked  round.  There  was  the  fat . 
boy,  perfectly  motionless,  with  his  large  circular 
eyes  staring  into  the  arbour,  but  without  the 
slightest  expression  on  his  face  that  the  most  ex- 
pert physiognomist  could  have  referred  to  astonish- 
ment, curiosity,  or  any  other  known  passion  that 
agitates  the  human  breast.  Mr.  Tupman  gazed  on 
the  fat  boy,  and  the  fat  boy  stared  at  him ;  and  the 
longer  Mr.  Tupman  observed  the  utter  vacancy  of 
the  fat  boy's  countenance,  the  more  convinced  he 
became  that  he  either  did  not  know  or  did  not  un- 
derstand any  thing  that  had  been  ^oing  forward. 
Under  this  impression,  he  said  with  great  firm- 
ness,— 

"  What  do  you  want  here,  sir?" 

"  Supper's  ready,  sir,"  was  the  prompt  reply. 

"  Have  you  just  come  here,  sir?"  inquired  Mr. 
Tupman  with  a  piercing  look. 

"  Just,"  replied  the  fat  boy. 

Mr.  Tupman  looked  at  him  very  hard  again  t 
but  there  was  not  a  wink  in  his  eye,  or  a  curve  in 
his  face. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  149 

_  Mr.  Tupman  look  the  arm  of  the  spinster  aunt, 
and  walked  towards  the  house ;  the  fat  boy  follow- 
ed behind. 

"  He  knows  nothing  of  what  lias  happened,"  he 
whispered. 

"Nothing,"  said  the  spinster  aunt. 

There  was  a  sound  behind  them,  as  of  an  im- 
perfectly suppressed  chuckle.  Mr.  Tupman  turned 
sharpiy  round.  No;  it  could  not  hav^e  been  the 
fat  boy;  there  was  not  a  gleam  of  mirth,  or  any 
thing  but  feeding,  in  his  whole  visage. 

"  He  must  have  been  A^st  asleep,"  whispered  Mr. 
Tupman. 

"I  have  not  the  least  doubt  of  it,"  replied  the 
spinster  aunt. 

They  both  laughed  heartily. 

Mr.  Tupman  was  wrong.  The  fat  boy,  for 
once,  had  not  been  fast  asleep.  He  was  awake — 
wide  awake — to  what  had  been  going  forward. 

The  supper  passed  off  without  any  attempt  at  a 
general  conversation.  The  old  lady  had  gone  to 
bed;  Isabella  VVardle  devoted  herself  exclusively 
to  Mr.  Trundle ;  the  spinster  aunt^s  attentions  were 
reserved  for  Mr.  Tupman;  and  Emily's  thoughts 
appeared  to  be  engrossed  by  som.e  distant  object 
— possibly  they  were  with  the  absent  Snodgrass. 

Eleven — twelve— one  o'clock  had  struck,  and 
the  gentlemen  had  not  arrived.  Consternation  sat 
on  every  face.  Could  they  have  been  waylaid  and 
robbed'^  Should  they  send  men  and  lanterns  in 
every  direction  by  which  they  could  be  supposed 
likely  to  have  travelled  home?  or  should  they — 
Hark  !  there  they  were.  What  could  have  made 
them  so  late?  A  strange  voice,  too!  To  whom 
could  it  belong?  They  rushed  into  the  kitchen 
whither  the  truants  had  repaired,  and  at  once  ob- 
tained rather  more  than  a  glimmering  of  the  real 
state  of  the  case. 

13* 


150  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  Og 

Mr.  Pickwick,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and 
his  hat  cocked  completely  over  his  left  eye,  was 
leaning  against  the  dresser,  s^haking  his  head  from 
side  to  side,  and  producing  a  constant  succession 
of  the  blandest  and  most  benevolent  smiles  with- 
out being  moved  thereunto  by  any  discernible 
cause  or  pretence  whatsoever;  old  Mr.  Wardle, 
with  a  highly  inflamed  countenance,  was  grasping 
the  hand  of  a  strange  gentleman,  muttering  pro- 
testations of  eternal  friendship;  Mr.  Winkle,  sup- 
porting himself  by  the  eight-day  clock,  was  feebly 
invoking  destruction  upon  the  head  of  any  member 
of  the  family  who  should  suggest  the  propriety  of 
his  retiring  for  the  night ;  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  had 
sunk  into  a  chair,  with  an  expression  of  the  most 
abject  and  hopeless  misery  that  the  human  mind 
can  imagine,  portrayed  in  every  lineament  of  his 
expressive  face. 

"Is  any  thing  the  matter?'  inquired  the  three 
ladies. 

"Nothin'  the  matter,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. — 
"  We — we're — all  right.  I  say,  Wardle,  we're  all 
right,  ain't  we?" 

"  1  should  think  so,"  replied  the  jolly  host.  "My 
dears,  here's  my  friend  Mr.  Jingle — Mr.  Pickwick's 
friend,  Mr*  Jingle — come  'pon  little  visit.'* 

"  Is  any  thing  the  matter  with  Mr.  Snodgrass, 
sir?"  inquired  Emily,  with  great  anxiety. 

"Nothing  the  matter,  ma'am,"  replied  the  stran- 
ger. "Cricket  dinner— glorious  parly — capital 
songs — old  port — claret — good — very  good — wine, 
ma'am — wine." 

"  It  wasn't  the  wine,"  murmured  Mr.  Snodgrass, 
m  a  broken  voice.  "  It  was  the  salmon."  (Some- 
how or  other,  it  never  is  the  wine,  in  these  cases.) 

"  Hadn't  they  better  go  to  bed,  ma'am  ?"  inquired 
Emma.  "  Two  of  the  boys  will  carry  the  gentle- 
men up  stairs." 


THE  PICKWICK  CL.UB.  151 

^'1  won't  go  to  bed,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  firmly. 

'*  No  living  boy  shall  carry  me,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, stoutly; — and  he  went  on  smiling  as  before. 

"  Hurrah  !"  gasped  Mr.  Winkle,  faintly. 

"Hurrah!"  echoed  Mr.  Pickwick,  taking  off'  his 
hat  and  dashing  it  on  the  floor,  and  insanely  cast- 
ing his  spectacles  into  the  middle  of  the  kitchen. — 
At  this  humorous  feat  he  laughed  outright. 

'•Let's — have — 'nother — bottle,'^  cried  Mr.  Win- 
kle, commencing  in  a  very  loud  key,  and  ending  in 
a  very  faint  one.  His  head  dropped  upon  his 
breast ;  and  muttering  his  invincible  determination 
not  to  go  to  his  bed,  and  a  sanguinary  regret  that 
he  had  not  'done  for  old  Tupman'  in  the  morning, 
he  fell  fast  asleep;  in  which  condition  he  was  borne 
to  his  apartment  by  two  young  giants,  under  the 
personal  superintendence  of  the  fat  boy,  to  whose 
protecting  care  Mr.  Snodgrass  shortly  afterwards 
confided  his  own  person.  Mr,  Pickwick  accepted 
the  proffered  arm  of  Mr.  Tupman,  and  quietly 
disappeared,  smiling  more  than  ever;  and  Mr. 
Wardle,  after  taking  as  affectionate  a  leave  of  the 
whole  family  as  if  he  were  ordered  for  immediate 
execution,  consigned  to  Mr.  Trundle  the  honour  of 
conveying  him  up  stairs,  and  retired,  with  a  very 
futile  attempt  to  look  impressively  solemn  and  dig- 
nified. 

"  What  a  shocking  scene !"  said  the  spinster 
aunt. 

"  Disgusting  !"  ejaculated  both  the  young  ladies. 

"Dreadful — dreadful !"  said  Jingle  looking  very 
grave:  he  was  about  a  bottle  and  a  half  ahead  of 
any  of  his  companions.  "  Horrid  spectacle — 
very.'' 

"  What  a  nice  man !"  whispered  the  spinster  aunt 
to  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  Good-looking,  too!"  whispered  Emily  Wardle. 

"  Oh,  decidedly,"  observed  the  spinster  aunt. 


152  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OP 

Mr.  Tupman  thought  of  the  widow  of  Roches- 
ter; and  liis  mind  was  troubled.  The  succeeding 
half-hour's  conversation  was  not  of  a  nature  to 
calm  his  perturbed  spirit.  The  new  visiter  was 
very  talkative,  and  the  number  of  his  anecdotes 
was  only  to  be  exceeded  by  the  extent  of  his  po- 
liteness. Mr.  Tupman  felt,  that,  as  Jingle's  popu- 
larity increased,  he  (Tupman)  retired  farther  into 
the  shade.  His  laughter  was  forced — his  merriment 
feigned  ;  and  when  at  last  he  laid  his  aching  tem- 
ples between  the  sheets,  he  thought,  with  horrid 
delight,  on  the  satisfiictioTi  it  would  alFoi'd  him,  to 
have  Jingle's  head  at  that  moment  between  the 
feather  bed  and  the  mattress. 

The  indefatigable  stranger  rose  betimes  next 
morning,  and,  although  his  companions  remained 
in  bed  overpowered  with  the  dissipation  of  the  pre- 
vious night,  exej-tcd  himself  most  successfully  to 
promote  the  hilarity  of  the  breakfast-table.  So 
successful  were  his  eflbrts,  that  even  the  deaf  old 
lady  insisted  on  having  one  or  two  of  his  best  jokes 
retailed  through  the  trumpet;  and  even  she  con- 
descended to  observe  to  the  spinster  aunt,  that,  "he" 
(meaning  Jingle)  "  w'as  an  impudent  young  fellow" 
— a  sentiment  in  which  all  her  relations  then  and 
there  present  thoroughly  coincided. 

It  was  the  old  lady's  habit  on  the  fine  summer 
mornings  to  repair  to  the  arbour  in  which  Mr. 
Tupman  had  already  signalized  himself  in  form 
and  manner  following: — first,  the  lat  boy  fetched 
from  a  peg  behind  the  old  lady's  bed-room  door,  a 
close  black  satin  bonnet,  a  warm  cotton  shawl,  and 
a  thick  stick  with  a  capacious  handle;  and  the  old 
lady  having  put  on  the  bonnet  and  shawl  at  her 
leisure,  would  lean  one  ha«d  on  the  stick  and  the 
other  on  the  fat  boy's  shoulder,  and  walk  leisurely 
to  the  arbour,  where  the  fat  boy  would  leave  her 
to  enjoy  the  fresh  air  for  the  space  of  half  an  hour  ; 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  153 

at  the  expiration  of  which  time  he  would  return 
and  re-conduct  her  back  to  the  house. 

The  old  hidy  was  very  precise  and  very  parti- 
cular; and  as  this  ceremony  had  been  observed  for 
three  successive  summers  without  the  slightest  de- 
viation from  the  accustomed  form,  she  was  not  a 
little  surprised  on  this  particular  morning,  to  see 
the  fat  boy,  instead  of  leaving  the  arbour,  walk  a 
few  paces  out  of  it,  look  carefully  round  him  in 
every  direction,  and  return  towards  her  with  great 
stealth  and  an  air  of  the  most  profound  mystery. 

The  old  lady  was  timorous — most  old  ladies  are 
- — and  her  first  impression  was  that  the  bloated  lad 
was  about  to  do  her  some  grievous  bodily  harm 
with  the  view  of  possessing  himself  of  her  loose 
coin.  She  would  have  cried  for  assistance,  but  age 
and  infirmity  had  long  ago  deprived  her  of  the 
power  of  screaming;  she,  therefore,  watched  his 
motions  with  feelings  of  intense  terror,  which  were 
in  no  degree  diminished  by  his  coming  up  close  to 
her,  and  shouting  in  her  ear  in  an  agitated,  and  as 
k,seemed  to  her,  a  threatening  tone,— - 

"Missus!" 

Now  it  so  happened  that  Mr.  Jingle  was  walk- 
ing in  the  garden  close  to  the  arbour  at  this  mo- 
ment. He  too  heard  the  shout  of  "Missus,"  and 
stopped  to  h^ar  more.  There  were  three  reasons 
for  his  doing  so.  In  the  first  place  he  was  idle  and 
curious ;  secondly,  he  was  by  no  means  scrupulous; 
thirdly,  and  lastly,  he  was  concealed  from  view  by 
some  flowering  shrubs.  So  there  he  stood,  and 
there  he  listened. 

"Missus,"  shouted  the  fat  boy. 

"  Well  Joe,"  said  the  trembling  old  lady.  "  Fm 
sure  I  have  been  a  good  mistress  to  you,  Joe.  You 
have  invariably  been  treated  very  kindly.  You 
have  never  had  too  much  to  do;  and  you  have  al- 
ways had  enough  to  eat." 


154  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

This  last  was  an  appeal  to  the  fat  boy's  most 
sensitive  feelings.  He  seemed  touched  as  he  re- 
plied, emphatically, — 

"  I  knows  I  has." 

"  Then  what  can  you  want  to  do  now?"  said  the 
old  lad}^  gaining  courage. 

"  I  wants  to  make  your  flesh  creep,"  replied  the 
boy. 

This  sounded  like  a  very  blood-thirsty  mode  of 
showing  one's  gratitude;  and  as  the  old  lady  did 
not  precisely  understand  the  process  by  which  such 
a  result  was  to  be  attained,  all  her  former  horrors 
returned. 

"  What  do  you  think  I  see  in  this  very  arbour 
last  night?"  inquired  the  boy. 

"Bless  us!  What?"  exclaimed  the  old  lady, 
alarmed  at  the  solemn  manner  of  the  corpulent 
youth. 

"  The  strange  gentleman — him  as  had  his  arm 
hurt — a  kissin'  and  huggin' " 

"Who,  Joe — who?  None  of  the  servants,  I 
hope." 

"  Worser  than  that,"  roared  the  fat  boy,  in  the 
old  lady's  ear. 

"  Not  one  of  my  grand-da'aters  ?" 

"  Worser  than  that." 

"Worse  than  that,  Joe!"  said  the  old  lad}^  who 
had  thought  this  the  extreme  limit  of  human  atro- 
city. "Who  w-as  it,  Joe?  I  insist  upon  know- 
ing." 

Tlie  f\it  boy  looked  cautiously  round,  and  having 
concluded  liis  survey,  shouted  in  the  old  lady's 
ear, — 

"  Miss  Rachael." 

'^  W^hat  ?"  said  the  old  lady,  in  a  shrill  tone. 
"  Speak  louder." 

"  Miss  Rnchael,"  roared  the  fat  boy. 

"Myda'aler!" 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  155 

The  train  of  nods  which  the  fat  boy  gave  by  way 
of  assent,  communicated  3.  bla7ic-mange  Wke  motion 
to  liis  fat  cheeks. 

"  And  she  suffered  him !"  exclaimed  the  old 
lady. 

A  grin  stole  over  the  fat  boy's  features  as  he 
said, — 

"  I  see  her  a  kissin'  of  him  agin." 

If  Mr.  Jingle  from  his  place  of  concealment, 
could  have  beheld  the  expression  wliich  the  old 
lady's  face  assumed  at  this  communication,  the  pro- 
bability is  that  a  sudden  burst  of  laughter  would 
have  betrayed  his  close  vicinity  to  the  summer- 
house.  He  listened  attentively.  Fragments  of  angry 
sentences  such  as,  "  Without  my  pcrm.ission  !" — 
''  At  her  time  of  life  ''^ — "  Miserable  old  'ooman  like 
me" — "Might  have  waited  till  I  was  dead,"  and 
so  fortfi,  reached  his  ear ;  and  then  he  heard  the 
heels  of  the  fat  boy's  boots  crunching  the  gravel, 
as  he  retired  and  left  the  old  lady  alone. 

It  was  a  remarkable  coincidence  perhaps,  but  it 
was  nevertheless  a  fact  that  Mr.  Jingle,  within  five 
minutes  after  his  arrival  at  Manor  Farm  on  the 
preceding  night,  had  inwardly  resolved  to  lay  siege 
to  the  heart  of  the  spinster  aunt,  without  delay. 
He  had  observation  enough  to  see,  that  hisofF-hand 
manner  was  by  no  means  disagreeable  to  the  fair 
object  of  his  attack;  and  he  had  more  than  a  strong 
suspicion  that  she  possessed  that  most  desirable  of 
all  requisites,  a  small  independence.  The  impera- 
tive necessity  of  ousting  his  rival  by  some  means 
or  other,  flashed  quickh^  upon  him,  and  he  imme- 
diately resolved  to  adopt  certain  proceedings  tend- 
ing to  that  end  and  object,  without  a  moment's  de- 
lay. Fielding  tells  us  that  man  is  fire,  and  woman 
tow,  and  the  Prince  of  Darkness  sets  a  light  to 
^em.  Mr.  Jingle  knew  that  young  men,  to  spin- 
ster aunts,  areas  lighted  gas  to  gunpowder,  and  he 


156  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

determined  to  essay  the  effect  of  an  explosion  with- 
out loss  of  time. 

Full  of  reflection  upon  this  important  decision,, 
he  crept  from  his  place  of  concealment,  and,  under 
cover  of  the  shrubs  before  mentioned,  approached 
the  house.  Fortune  seemed  determined  to  favour 
his  design.  Mr.  Tupman  and  (he  rest  of  the  gen- 
tlemen left  the  garden  by  the  side  gate  just  as  he 
obtained  a  view  of  it;  and  the  young  ladies,  he 
knew,  had  walked  out  alone,  soon  after  breakfast. 
The  coast  was  clear. 

The  breakfast-parlour  door  was  partially  open. 
He  peeped  in.  The  spinster  aunt  was  knitting. 
He  coughed  ;  she  looked  up  and  smiled.  Hesita- 
tion formed  no  part  of  Mr.  Alfred  Jingle's  charac- 
ter. He  laid  his  finger  on  his  lips  mysteriously, 
walked  in,  and  closed  the  door. 

"  Miss  Wardle,"  said  Mr.  Jingle,  with  affected 
earnestness,  "  forgive  intrusion — short  acquaintance 
-^no  time  for  ceremony — all  discovered." 

"  Sir!"  said  the  spinster  aunt,  rather  astonished 
by  the  unexpected  apparition  and  somewhat  doubt- 
ful of  Mr.  Jingle's  sanity. 

"  Hush  !"  said  Mr.  Jingle,  in  a  stage  whisper; — 
"large boy — dumpling  face — round  eyes — rascal!" 
Here  he  shook  his  head  expressively,  and  the  spin- 
ster aunt  trembled  wnth  agitation. 

"I  presume  you  allude  to  Joseph,  sir?"  said  the 
lady,  making  an  effort  to  appear  composed. 

"  Yes,  ma'am — d — n  that  Joe  ! — treacherous 
dog,  Joe — told  the  old  lady — old  lady  furious — 
wild  —  raving  —  arbour  —  Tupman — kissing  and 
hugging — all  that  sort  of  thing — eh,  ma'am — eh?" 

"Mr.  Jingle,"  said  the  spinster  aunt,  "  if  you 
come  here  sir,  to  insult  me " 

"  Not  at  all — by  no  means,"  replied  the  una- 
bashed Mr.  Jingle: — "overheard  the  tale — came 
to  warn  you  of  your  danger — tender  my  service* 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  157 

— prevent  the  hubbub.  Never  mind — think  it  an 
insult — leave  the  room" — and  lie  turned,  as  if  to 
carry  the  threat  into  execution. 

"  What  shall  I  do  !"  said  the  poor  spinster,  burst- 
ing into  tears.     •'  My  brother  will  be  furious!" 

"Of  course  he  will,"  said  Mr.  Jingle,  pausing-^ 
"outrageous." 

"  Oh  Mr.  Jingle,  wbatta7^  1  say !"  exclaimed  the 
spinster  aunt,  in  another  flood  of  despair. 

"  Say  he  dreamt  it,"  replied  Mr.  Jingle,  coolly. 

A  ray  of  comfort  darted  across  the  mind  of  the 
spinster  aunt  at  this  suggestion.  Mr.  Jingle  per- 
ceived it,  and  followed  up  his  advantage. 

"Pooh,  pooh! — nothing  more  easy — blackguard 
boy — lovely  woman — fat  boy  horsewhipped — you 
believed — end  of  the  matter — all  comfortable." 

Whether  the  probability  of  escaping  from  the 
consequences  of  this  ill-timed  discovery  was  de- 
lightful to  the  spinster's  feelings,  or  whether  the 
hearing  herself  described  as  a  "lovely  woman" 
softened  the  asperity  of  her  grief,  we  know  not. 
She  blushed  slightly,  and  cast  a  grateful  look  on 
Mr.  Jingle. 

That  insinuating  gentleman  sighed  deeply,  fixed 
his  eyes  on  the  spinster  aunt's  face  for  a  couple  of 
minutes,  started  melo-dramalically,  and  suddenly 
withdrew  them. 

"  You  seem  unhappy,  Mr.  Jingle,"  said  the  lady, 
in  a  plaintive  voice.  "  May  I  show  my  gratitude 
for  your  kind  interference,  by  inquiring  into  the 
cause,  with  a  view,  if  possible,  to  its  removaH" 

"Hal"  exclaimed  Mr.  Jingle,  with  another  start 
— "removal!  remove  my  unhappiness,  and  your 
love  bestowed  upon  a  man  who  is  insensible  to  the 
blessing — who  even  now  contemplates  a  design 
upon  the  affections  of  the  niece  of  the  creature 
who — but  no;  he  is  my  friend;  I  will  not  expose 
his  vices.  Miss  Wardle — farewell !"  At  the  con- 
14 


153  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

elusion  of  this  address,  the  most  consecutive  lie 
was  ever  known  to  utter,  Mr.  Jingle  applied  to  his 
eyes  the  renanant  of  a  handkerchief  before  noticed, 
and  turned  towards  the  door. 

"  Stay,  Mr.  Jingle !"  said  the  spinster  aunt  em- 
phatically. "You  have  made  an  allusion  to  Mr. 
Tupman — explain  it." 

"Never!"  exclaimed  Jingle,  with  a  professional 
(i.  e.  theatrical)  air.  "Never!"  and,  by  way  of 
showing  that  he  had  no  desire  to  be  questioned 
farther,  he  drew  a  chair  close  to  that  of  the  spins- 
ter aunt  and  sat  down. 

"Mr.  Jingle,"  said  the  aunt,  "I  entreat — I  im- 
plore you,  if  there  is  any  dreadful  mystery  con- 
nected with  Mr.  Tupman,  reveal  it." 
^"Can  I,"  said  Mr.  Jingle,  fixing  his  eyes  on  the 
aunt's  face — "Can  I  see — lovely  creature — sacri- 
ficed at  the  shrine — heartless  avarice!"  He  ap- 
peared to  be  struggling  with  various  conflicting 
emotions  for  a  few  seconds,  and  then  said  in  a  low 
deep  voice — "Tupman  only  wants  your  money." 
"The  wretch!"  exclaimed  the  spinster,  with 
energetic  indignation.  (Mr.  Jingle's  doubts  were 
resolved.     She  had  money.) 

"  More  than  that,"  said  Jingle — "  loves  another." 
"Another!"  ejaculated  the  spinster.     "Who?" 
"  Short  girl — black  eyes — niece  Emily." 
There  was  a  pause. 

Now  if  there  were  one  individual  in  the  whole 
world,  of  whom  the   spinster   aunt  entertained  a 
mortal    and    deeply-rooted   je;ilousy,    it    was    this 
identical  niece.     The  colour  rushed  over  licr  face 
and  neck,  and  she  tossed  her  head  in  silence  with 
an  air  of  ineffable  contempt.     At  last  biting  her 
thin  lips,  and  bridling  up,  she  said, — 
"  It  can't  be.     I  won't  believe  it." 
"  Watch  'em,"  said  Jingle. 
"I  will,"  said  the  aunt. 


THE  PLCKVVICK  CLUB.  159 

"  Watch  his  looks." 

''I  will." 

"  His  whispers." 

"I  will." 

''  He'll  sit  next  her  at  table." 

"Let  him." 

"  He'll  flatter  her." 

''  Let  him." 

'•'  He'll  pay  her  every  possible  attention." 

"  Let  him." 

"And  he'll  cut  you." 

"Cut  me/"  screamed  the  spinster  aunt.  "He 
cut  me — will  he !"  and  she  trembled  with  rage  and 
disappointment. 

"  You  will  convince  yourself!"  said  Jingle. 

'«I  will.'^ 

"  You'll  show  your  spirit?" 

"I  will." 

"  You'll  not  have  him  afterwards  ?' 

"Never." 

"  You'll  take  somebody  else  ?' 

"  Yes." 

"  You  shall." 

Mr.  Jingle  fell  on  his  knees,  remained  thereupon 
for  five  minutes  thereafter;  and  rose  the  accepted 
lover  of  the  spinster  aunt — conditionally  upon  Tup- 
man's  perjury  being  made  clear  and  manifest. 

The  burden  of  proof  lay  with  Mr.  Alfred  Jin- 
gle;  and  he  produced  his  evidence  that  very  day 
at  dinner.  The  spinster  aunt  could  hardly  believe 
her  eyes.  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman  was  established  at 
Emily's  side,  ogling,  whispering,  and  smiling,  in 
opposition  to  Mr.  Snodgrass.  Not  a  word,  not  a 
look,  not  a  glance,  did  he  bestow  upon  his  heart's 
pride  of  the  evening  before. 

"  D — n  that  boy  !"  thought  old  Wardle  to  him- 
self.    He  had  heard  the  story  from   his  mother. 


160  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

"  D — n  that  boy  !  He  must  have  been  asleep.  It's 
all  imagination.'^ 

"Traitor!''  thought  the  spinster  aunt  to  herself. 
*Dear  Mr.  Jingle  was  not  deceiving  me.  Oh !  how 
I  hate  the  wretch !" 

The  following  conversation  may  serve  to  explain 
to  our  readers  this  apparently  unaccountable  alter- 
ation of  deportment  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Tracy  Tup- 
man. 

The  time  was  evening ;  the  scene  the  garden. 
There  were  two  figures  walking  in  a  side  path ; 
one  was  rather  short  and  stout — the  other  rather 
tall  and  slim.  They  were  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr. 
Jingle.  The  stout  figure  commenced  the  dia- 
logue. 

"  How  did  I  do  it  V  he  inquired. 

"  Splendid— capital — couldn't  act  better  myself. 
You  must  repeat  the  part  to  morrow — every  even- 
ing, till  farther  notice." 

"Does  Rachael  still  wish  it?" 

"  Of  course — she  don't  like  it — but  must  be  done 
— avert  suspicion — afraid  of  her  brother — says 
there's  no  help  for  it— only  few  days  more — when 
old  folks  blinded  crown  your  happiness." 

"  Any  message?" 

"Love — best  love — kindest  regards — unaltera- 
ble affection.     Can  I  say  any  thing  for  you?" 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  replied  the  unsuspicious  Mr. 
Tupman,  fervently  grasping  his  "  friend's  "  hand — 
"  carry  my  best  love — say  how  hard  I  find  it  to 
dissemble — say  any  thing  that's  kind  ;  but  add 
how  sensible  1  am  of  the  necessity  of  the  sugges- 
tion she  made  to  me,  through  you,  this  morning. 
Say  1  applaud  her  wisdom,  and  admire  her  discre- 
tion." 

"  I  will.     Any  thing  more  !" 

^'  Nothing ;    only  add  how  ardently  I   long  for 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  161 

the  time  when  I  may  call  her  mine,  and  all  dissi- 
mulation may  be  unnecessary." 

'•Certainly,  certainly.     Any  thing  more?" 

"Oh,  my  friend  !"  said  poor  Mr.  Tupman,  again 
grasping  the  hand  of  his  companion;  "receive  my 
warmest  thanks  for  your  disinterested  kindness; 
and  forgive  me  if  I  have  ever,  even  in  thought, 
done  you  the  injustice  of  supposing  that  you  could 
stand  in  my  way.  My  dear  friend,  can  I  ever  re- 
pay you  T" 

"Don't  talk  of  it,"  replied  Mr.  Jingle.  He 
stopped  short,  as  if  suddenly  recollecting  some- 
thing, and  said — "By-the-by,  you  can't  spare  ten 
pounds,  can  you? — very  particular  purpose — pay 
you  in  three  days." 

"  I  dare  say  J  can,"  replied  Mr.  Tupman,  in  the 
fulness  of  his  heart.     "  Three  days,  you  say?" 

"  Only  three  days — all  over  then— no  more  diffi- 
culties." 

Mr.  Tupman  counted  the  money  into  his  compa- 
nion's hand,  and  he  dropped  it  piece  by  piece  into 
his  pocket,  as  they  walked  towards  the  house. 

"Be  careful,"  said  Mr.  Jingle — "not  a  look." 

"Not  a  wink,"  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

"Not  a  syllable.'' 

"  Not  a  whisper." 

"  All  your  attentions  to  the  niece — rather  rude, 
than  otherwise,  to  the  aunt — only  way  of  deceiving 
the  old  ones." 

"I'll  take  care,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  aloud. 

"  And  I'll  take  care,"  said  Mr.  Jingle,  internally; 
and  they  entered  the  house. 

The  scene  of  that  afternoon  was  repeated  that 
evening,  and  on  the  three  afternoons  and  eveninsjs 
next  ensuing.  On  the  fourth,  the  host  was  in  high 
spirits,  for  he  had  satisfied  himself  that  there  was 
no  ground  for  the  charge  against  Mr.  Tupman.  So 
was  Mr.  Tupman,  for  Mr.  Jingle  had  told  him  that 
14* 


162,  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

liis  affair  would  soon  be  brought  to  a  crisis.  So 
was  Mr.  Pickwick,  for  he  was  seldom  otherwise. 
So  was  not  Mr.  Snodgrass,  for  he  had  grown  jealous 
of  Mr.  Tupman.  So  was  the  old  lady,  for  she  had 
been  winning  at  whist.  So  were  Mr.  Jingle  and 
Miss  Wardle,  for  reasons  of  sufficient  importance 
in  this  eventful  history,  to  be  narrated  in  another 
chapter. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  1.63 


CHAPTER  IX. 


A  DISCOVERY  AND  A  CHASE.. 


The  supper  was  ready  laid,  the  chairs  were 
drawn  round  the  table,  bottles,  jugs  and  glasses 
were  arranged  upon  the  sideboard,  and  every  thing 
betokened  the  approach  of  the  most  convivial  pe-. 
riod  in  tlie  whole  four  and  twenty  hours. 

"Where's  Rachaen"  said  Mr.  Wardle. 

"Ay,  and  Jingle?'  added  Mi%  Pickwick. 

"  Dear  me,"  said  the  host,  "I  wonder  I  haven't 
rnissed  him  before.  Why,  I  don't  think  Pve  heard 
his  voice  for  (wo  hours  at  least.  Emily,  my  dear, 
ring  the  bell." 

The  bcli  was  rung,  and  the  fat  boy  appeared. 

'•' Vv here's  Miss  Rachael?'     He  couldn't  say. 

''  Where's  Mr.  Jingle,  then  ?"     He  didn't  kno\v. 

Every  body  looked  surprised.-  It  was  late — 
past  eleven  o'clock.  Mr.  Tupman  laughed  in  his. 
sleeve.  They  were  loitering  some  where,  talking 
about  him.     Ha,  ha  !  capital  notion  that — funny. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  VVardle,  after  a  short  pause, 
"they'll  turn  up  presently,  1  dare  say.  1  never 
wait  supper  for  any  body.'* 

"  Excellent  rule,' that,''  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  ad-, 
mirablc." 

"Pray,  sit  down,"  said  the  host. 

"  Certainly,"  said  JMr.  Pickwick :  and  down  they 
sat. 

There  was  a  gigantic  round  of  cold  Keef  on  tho 


1G4  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

table,  and  Mi\  Pickwick  was  supplied  with  a  plen- 
tiful portion  of  it.  He  had  raised  his  fork  to  his 
lips,  and  was  on  the  very  point  of  opening  his 
mouth  for  the  reception  of  a  piece  of  beef,  when 
the  hum  of  many  voices  suddenly  arose  in  the 
kitchen.  He  paused,  and  laid  down  his  fork.  Mr. 
Wardle  paused  too,  and  insensibly  released  his 
hold  of  the  carving-knife,  which  remained  inserted 
in  the  beef.  He  looked  at  Mr.  Pickwick.  Mr. 
Pickwick  looked  at  him. 

Heavy  footsteps  were  heard  in  the  passage;  the 
parlour  door  was  suddenly  burst  open;  and  the 
man  who  had  cleaned  Mr.  Pickwick's  boots  on  his 
first  arrival,  rushed  into  the  room,,  followed  by  the 
fat  boy,  and  all  the  domestics. 

"What's  the  meaning  of  all  this?"  exclaimed 
the  host. 

'•  The  kitchen  chimney  ain't  a-fire,  is  it,  Emma?" 
inquired  the  old  lady. 

'*  Oh,  grandma  !  no,"  screamed  both  the  young 
ladies. 

"What's  the  matter?"  roared  the  master  of  the 
house. 

The  man  gasped  for  breath,  and  faintly  ejacu- 
lated— 

"They  ha'  gone,  mas'r!^ — gone  right  clean  off, 
sir!"-  (At  this  juncture,  Mr.  Tupman  was  ob- 
served to  lay  down  his  knife  and  fork,  and  to  turn 
very  pale.) 

"  Who^s  ^one?"said  Mr.  Wardle  fiercely. 

"  Mus'r  Jingle  and  Miss  Rachael,  in  a  po'-chay, 
from  Blue  Lion,  Muggleton.  I  was  there;  but 
I  couldn't  stop  'em:  so  I  run  off  to  tell  'ee." 

^'  I  paid  his  expenses !"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  jump- 
ing up  frantically.  "  He's  got  ten  pounds  of  mine  I 
stop  him  ! — he's  swindled  me  ! — I  wont  bear  it ! — 
ril  have  justice,  Pickwick  ! — I  wont  stand  it  I" 
and  with  ^sundry  incoherent  exclamations  of  the 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  165 

like  nature,  the  unhappy  gentleman  spun  round  and 
round  the  apartment,  in  a  trans-port  of  frenzy. 

"Lord  preserve  LIS !"  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick, 
eyeing  the  extraordinary  gestures  of  his  friend 
with  terrified  surprise.  "He's  gone  mad!  What 
shall  we  do?' 

"  Do  !"  said  the  stout  old  host,  who  regarded 
only  the  last  words  of  the  sentence.  "Put  the 
horse  in  the  gig !  Pll  get  a  chaise  at  the  Lion, 
and  follow  'em  instantly.  "Where" — he  exclaimed, 
as  the  man  ran  out  to  execute  the  commission — 
"Where's  that  villain,  Joe?" 

"Here  I  am ;  but  I  han't  a  villain,"  replied  a 
voice.     It  was  the  fat  boy's. 

"Let  me  get  at  him,  Pickwick!"  cried  Wardle, 
as  he  rushed  at  <he  ill-starred  youth.  "  He  was 
bribed  by  (hat  scoundrel,  Jingle,  to  put  me  on  a 
wrong  scent,  by  telling  a  cock-and-a-bull  story  of 
my  sister  and  your  friend  Tnpman  !"  (Here  Mr. 
Tupman  sunk  into  a  chair.)  "  Let  me  get  at  him!" 

"  Don't  let  him  !"  screamed  all  the  women,  above 
whose  exclamations,  the  blubbering  of  the  fat  boy 
was  distinctly  audible. 

"  I  won't  be  held  !"  cried  the  old  man.  "  Mr. 
Winkle,  take  your  hands  off!  Mr.  Pickwick,  let 
me  go,  sir!" 

It  was  a  beautiful  sight,  in  that  moment  of  tur- 
moil and  confusion,  to  behold  the  placid  and  phi- 
losophical expression  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  face,  albeit 
somewhat  flushed  with  exertion,  as  he  stood  with 
his  arms  firmly  clasped  round  the  extensive  waist 
of  their  corpulent  host,  thus  restraining  the  im- 
petuosity of  his  passion,  while  the  fat  boy  was 
scratched,  and  pulled,  and  pushed  from  the  room 
by  all  the  females  congregated  therein,  He  had 
no  sooner  released  his  hojd,  than  the  man  entered 
to  announce  that  the  gig  was  ready. 


616  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

''  Don't  let  him  go  alone  !''  screamed  the  females. 
*a-Je'll  kill  somebody!" 

<'?!!  go  with  him,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*' You're  a  good  fellow,  Pickwick,"  said  the  host, 
grasping  his  liaiid.  '-Emma,  give  Mr.  Pickwick  a 
shawl  to  tie  round  his  neck — make  haste.  Look 
after  your  grandmother,  girls;  she's  fainted  away. 
Now  then,  are  you  ready?" 

Mr.  Pickwick*s  mouth  and  chin,  having  been 
hastily  enveloped  \u  a  large  shawl :  his  hat  having 
been  put  on  his  head,  and  his  great  coat  thrown 
over  his  arm,  he  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

They  jumped  into  the  gig.  "Give  her,  her 
head,  Tom,"  cried  the  host;  and  away  they  went, 
down  the  narrow  lanes  :  jolting  in  and  out  of  the 
cart-ruts,  and  bumping  up  against  the  hedges  on 
either  side,  as  if  tliey  would  go  to  pieces  every 
moment. 

"How  much  are  they  a-head?"  shouted  Wardle, 
as  they  drove  up  to  the  door  of  the  Blue  Lion, 
round  which  a  little  crowd  had  collected,  late  as 
it  was. 

"Not  above  three  quarters  of  an  hour,"  was 
every  body's  reply. 

"Chaise  and  four  directly! — out  with  'em!  Put 
up  the  gig  afterwards." 

"  Now,  boys !"  cried  the  landlord — "  chaise  and 
four  out — make  haste — look  alive  there!" 

Away  ran  the  hostlers  and  the  boys.  The  lan- 
terns glimmered,  as  the  men  ran  to  and  fro;  the 
horses'  hoofs  clattered  on  the  uneven  paving  of  the 
yard;  the  chaise  rumbled  as  it  was  drawn  out  of 
the  coachhouse ;  and  all  was  noise  and  bustle. 

"Now  then ! — Is  that  chaise  coming  out  to- 
night?' cried  Wardle. 

"Coming  down  the  yard  now,  sir,"  replied  the 
hostler. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  167 

Out  came  the  chaise — in  went  the  horses — on 
sprung  the  boys — in  got  the  travellers. 

"  Mind — the  seven-mile  stage  in  less  than  half  an 
hour!"  shouted  Wardle. 

"Off  with  you!'' 

The  boys  applied  whip  and  spur,  the  waiters 
shouted,  the  hostler  cheered,  and  away  they  went, 
fast  and  furiously. 

"  Pretty  situation,*'  thought  Mr.  Pickwick,  wjien 
he  had  had  a  moment's  time  for  reflection.  "  Pret- 
ty situation  for  the  General  Chairman  of  the  Pick- 
wick Club.  Damp  chaise — strange  horses — fifteen 
miles  an  hour,  and  twelv^e  o'clock  at  night  I'' 

For  the  first  three  or  four  miles,  not  a  word  was 
spoken  by  either  of  the  gentlemen,  each  being  too 
much  immersed  in  his  own  refiections,  to  address 
any  observations  to  his  companion.  When  they 
had  gone  over  that  much  ground,  however,  and 
the  horses,  getting  thoroughly  warmed,  began  to 
do  their  work  in  really  good  style,  Mr.  Pickwick 
became  too  much  exhilarated  with  the  rapidity  of 
the  motion,  to  remain  any  longer  perfectly  mute. 

*'  We're  sure  to  catch  them,  1  think,"  said  he. 

"  Hope  so,"  replied  his  companion. 

"Fine  night,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  up  at 
the  moon,  which  was  shining  brightly. 

"So  much  the  worse,"  returned  Wardle;  "for 
they'll  have  had  all  the  advantage  of  the  mooniight- 
to  get  the  start  of  us,  and  we  shall  lose  it.  it  \\\\\ 
have  gone  dow!i  in  another  hour." 

"It  will  be  rather  unpleasant  going  at  this  rate 
in  the  dark,  won't  it?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"I  dare  say  it  will,"  replied  his  friend,  drily. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  temporary  excitement  began  to 
sober  down  a  little,  as  he  reflected  upon  the  incon- 
veniences and  dangers  of  the  expedition  in  which 
lie  had  so  thoughtlessly  embarked.  He  was  roused 
by  a  loud  shouting  of  the  post-boy  on  the  leader. 


168  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

*'  Yo,  yo^  yo,  yo,  yce !"  went  the  fir&t  boy. 

"  Y'o,  yo,  yo,  yoe !"  went  the  second. 

"  Yo,  yo,  yo,  yoel"  chimed  in  old  Wardle  him- 
self, most  lustily',  with  his  head  and  half  his  body 
out  of  the  coach  window. 

"  Yo,  yo,  yo,  yoe !"  shouted  Mr.  Pickwick,  taking 
up  the  burden  of  the  cry,  though  he  had  not  the 
slightest  notion  of  its  meaning  or  object.  And 
amidst  the  yo  yoing  of  the  whole  four,  the  chaise 
stopped. 

"  What's  the  matter?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  There's  a  gate  here,"  replied  old  Wardle.  "  We 
shall  hear  something  of  the  fugitives." 

After  a  lapse  of  five  minutes,  cotisumed  in  in- 
cessant knocking  and  shouting,  an  old  man  in  his 
shirt  and  trousers  emerged  from  the  turnpike- 
house,  and  opened  the  gate. 

"  How  long  is  it  since  a  post-chaise  went  through 
here?'  inquired  Mr.  Wardle. 

'^  How  long?' 

u  Ah  !" 

"  Why,  I  don't  rightly  know.  It  worn't  a  long 
time  ago,  nor  it  worn't  a  short  time  ago — ^just  be- 
tween the  two,  perhaps." 

"  Has  any  chaise  been  by  at  all?' 

'•Oh  yes,  there's  been  a  chay  by." 

"  How  long  ago,  my  friend,"  interposed  Mr. 
Pickvk'ick  ;  "  an  hour?' 

"  Ah,  I  dare  say  it  might  be,"  replied  the  man. 

"  Or  two  hours?'  inquired  the  post-boy  on  the 
wheeler. 

"Well,  I  shoiildn't  wonder  if  it  was,"  returned 
the  old  man,  doubtfully. 

"Drive  on,  boys,"  cried  the  testy  old  gentle- 
man; "don't  waste  any  more  time  with  that  old 
idiot !" 

"  Idiot!"  exclaimed  the  old  man,  with  a  grin,  as 
he  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  with  the  gale 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  16«J 

half  closed,  watching  the  chaise,  which  rapidly  di- 
minished in  the  increasing  distance.  "No — not 
much  o'  that  either;  you've  lost  ten  miiiates  here, 
and  gone  away  as  wise  as  you  came  arter  all.  If 
every  man  on  the  line  as  has"  a  guinea  give  him 
earns  it  half  as  well  you,  v/on't  catch  t'other  chay 
this  side  J.liclrhiias,  old  short  and  fat.''  And,  with 
another  prolonged  grin,  the  old  man  closed  the 
gate,  re-entered  his  house,  and  bolted  the  door  after 
him. 

Mean  while  the  chaise  proceeded,  without  any 
slackening  of  pace,  towards  the  conclusion  of  the 
stage.  The  moon,  as^  Wardle  had  foretold,  was 
rapidly  on  the  wane;  large  tiers  of  dark  heavy 
clouds  which  had  been  gradually  overspreading 
the  sky  for  some  time  past,  now  formed  one  hlack 
mass  overhead ;  and  large  drops  of  rain  which 
pattered  every  now  and  then  against  the  win- 
dows of  the  chaise,  seemed  to  warn  the  travel- 
lers of  the  rapid  aj^proach  of  a  stormy  night.  The 
wind,  too,  which  was  directly  against  them,  swept 
in  furious  gusts  down  the  narrow  road,  and  howled 
dismally  through  the  trees  v>'hich  skirted  the  path- 
way. Mr.  Pickwick  drew  his  coat  closer  about 
him,  coiled  himself  more  snugly  up  into  the  cor- 
ner of  the  chaise,  and  fell  into  a  sound  sleep,  from 
which  he  was  only  awakened  by  the  stopping  of 
the  vehicle,  the  sound  of  the  hostler's  bell,  and  a 
loud  cry  of"  Horses  on  directly  !" 

But  here  another  delay  occurred.  The  boys 
were  sleeping  with  such  mysterious  soundness,  that 
it  took  five  minutes  a-pie€e  to  wake  them.  The 
hostler  had  somjchow  or  other  mislaid  the  key  of 
the  stable,  and  even  when  that  was  found,  two 
sleepy  helpers  put  the  wrong  harness  on  the  wrong 
horses,  and  the  whole  process  of  harnessing  had  to 
be  gone  through  afresh.  Had  Mr.  Pickwick  beert 
15 


170  POSTHUMOUS  papeus  of 

nionc,  these  multiplied  obstacles  would  have  com- 
.pletely  put  an  end  to  the  pursuit  at  once,  but  old 
Waidle  was  not  to  be  so  easily  daunted;  and  he  laid 
about  hinn  with  such  hearty  good  will,  cuffing  this 
man,  and  pushing  that;  strapping  a  buckle  here,  and 
taking  in  a  link  there,  that  the  cliaise  was  ready  in 
a  much  shorter  tinne  than  could  reasonably  have 
been  expected,  under  so  many  difficulties. 

They  re&um^ed  their  journey  ;  and  certainly  the 
prospect  before  them  was  by  no  means  en- 
couraging. The  stage  was  (ifteen  miles  long, 
•the  night  was  dark,  the  wind  high,  and  the  rain 
])ouringin  torrents.  It  was  impossible  to  make 
any  great  way  against  such  obslacles  united:  it 
w^as  hard  upon  one  o'clock  already;  and  nearly  two 
liours  were  consum.ed  in  getting  to  the  end  of  the 
stage.  Here  however  an  object  presented  itself, 
which  re-kindled  their  hopes,  and  re-animated  their 
drooping  t<pirits. 

"  When  did  this  chaise  come  in  ?"  cried  old  War- 
die,  leaping  out  of  his  own  vehicle,  and  pointing  to 
one  covered  with  Vvxt  mud,  which  was  standing  in 
the  yard. 

"  Not  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ago,  sir;"  replied  the 
hostler  to  whom  the  question  was  addressed. 

"Lady  and  gentleman?"  inquired  Wardle,  al- 
most breathless  with  impatience. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

•'  Tall  gentleman — dress  coat — long  legs — ihiri 
body  V 

"  Yes,  sir," 

"  Elderly  lady — thin  face — rather  skinny — eh  V 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"By  heavens,  it's  them,  Pickwick,"  exclaimed 
the  old  gentlem.an. 

"  Would  have  been  here  before,"  said  the  hostler, 
"  but  they  broke  a  trace." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  17  1 

•''Tis  them,"  said  Wardle,  "it  is,  by  Jove! 
Cliaise  and  four  instantly.  We  shall  catch  them 
yet,  before  they  reach  the  next  stage.  A  guinea 
a-piece,boys— be  alive  there — bustle  about— there's 
good  fellows." 

And  with  such  admonitions  as  thes-e,  the  old 
gentleman  ran  up  and  down  the  3^ard,and  bustled 
to  and  fro,  in  a  state  of  excitement  which  comniu- 
nicated  itself  to  Mr.  Pickwick  also;  and  under  the 
influence  of  which  that  gentleman  got  himself  into 
complicated  entanglements  with  harness,  and  mixed 
up  with  horses  and  wheels  of  chaises,  in  the  most 
surprising  manner,  firmly  believing  that  by  so 
doing,  he  was  materially  forwarding  the  prepara- 
tions for  their  resuming  their  journey. 

"Jump  in — ^jump  inl"  cried  old  Wardle,  climb- 
ing into  the  chaise,  p^jilling  up  the  steps,  and  slam- 
mino^  the  door  after  him.  "Come  alons^  make 
haste."  And  before  Mr.  Pickwick  knew  precisely 
what  he  w^as  about,  he  felt  himself  forced  in  at 
the  other  door,  by  one  pull  from  the  old  gentleman, 
and  one  push  from  the  hostler;  and  off  they  were 
again. 

,r  "Ah  !  we  are  movmg  now,"  said  the  old  gentle- 
man exuitingly.  They  were,  indeed,  as  was  sufS= 
ciently  testified  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  by  his  constant 
collisions  either  with  the  hard  wood-work  of  the 
chaise,  or  the  body  of  his  companion. 

"Hold  up!"  said  the  stout  old  Mr.  Wardle,  as 
Mr.  Pickwick  dived  head  foremost  into  his  capa- 
cious waistcoat. 

"  I  never  did  feel  such  a  jolting  in  my  life,"  said 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Never  mind,"  replied  his  companion,  "  it'll  sooi"j 
be  over.     Steady,  steady." 

Mr.  Pickwick  planted  himself  into  his  owm  cor- 
ner, as  firmly  as  he  could ;  and  on  whirled  the  chais® 
faster  then  ever. 


172  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

"  They  had  travelled  in  this  way  about  three 
miles,  when  Mr.  Wardic,  wlio  had  been  looking 
out  of  the  window  for  two  or  three  niinutes,  sud- 
denly drew  in  his  face,  covered  with  splashes,  and 
exclaimed  in  breathless  eagerness — 

"  Here  fhcy  arc  1^' 

Mr.  Pickwick  thrust  his  head  out  of  his  win- 
dow. Ycs*t 'there  was  a  chaise  and  four,  a  short 
distance  before  th'enr),  dashing  along  at  full  gallop. 

"Go  on,  go  on,"  almost  shrieked  the  old  gentle- 
man. "Two.:guineas  a-piece,  boys — don't  let  'em 
gain  on  us — keep  it  up — keen  it  up." 

The  horses  in  the  tirst  chaise  started  on  at  their 
utmost  speed  ,'  and  those  in  JMr.  Wardle's  galloped 
furiously  behind  them. 

"  I  see  his  head,"  exclaimed  the  choleric  old 
man,  "  damme,  I  sec  his  head." 

"  So  do  I,"-  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  that's  he." 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  not  mistaken.  The  counte- 
nance of  Mr.  Jingle,  completely  coated  with  mud 
thrown  up  by  the  wheels,  was  plainly  discernible 
at  the  window  of  his  chaise  ;  and  the  motion  of  his 
arm,  which  he  was  waving  violently  towards  the 
postillions,  denoted  tliat  he  was  encouraging  them 
t2  increased  exertion. 

The  interest  was  infcnse..  Fields,  trees,  and 
hedges,  seemed  to  rush  past  them  with  the  velocity 
of  fV  whirlwind,  so  rapid  was  the  pace  at  which 
;they  tore  along.  They  were  close  by  the  side  of 
the  first  chaise.  Jingle's  voice  could  be  plainly 
heard,  even  above  the  din  of  the  wheels,  urging  on 
the  boys.  Old  Mr.  Wardle  foamed  with  rage  and 
excitement,  lie  roared  out  scoundrels  and  villains 
by  the  dozen,  clenched  his  fist  and  shook  it  expres- 
sively at  the  object  of  his  indignation ;  but  Mr. 
Jingle  only  answered  with  a  contemptuous  smile, 
and  replied  to  his  menaces  by  a  shout  of  triumph. 


THE"  PICKWICK  CLUB.  173 

as  his  horses,  answering  to  the  increased  applica- 
tion of  whip  and  spur,  broke  into  a  foster  gallop, 
and  left  the  pursuers  behind.. 

Mr.  Pickwick  liad  just  drawn  in  his  head,  and 
Mr.  Wardlc,  exhausted  with  shouting,  had  done 
the  same,  when  a  tremendous  jolt  threw  them  for- 
ward against  the  front  of  the  vehicle.  There  was 
a  sudden  bump — a  loud  crash — a\yay  rolled  a 
wheel,  and  over  went  the  chaise. 

After  a  very  few  seconds  of  bewilderment  vnd 
confusion,  in  which  nothing  but  tHie  plunging  of 
horses,  and  breaking  of  glass  could  be"  made  out, 
Mr.  Pickwick  felt  himself  violently  pulled  out  from 
among  the  ruins  of  the  chaise;  and.as  soon  as  he 
had  gained  his  feet,  and  extricated  his  head  front 
the  skirts  of  his  great  coat,  which  materially  im- 
peded the  usefulness  of  his  spectacles,  the  full  dis- 
aster of  the  case  n^et  his  view. 

"Old  Mr.  Ward'lc  without  a  hat,  arid  his  clothes 
torn  in  several  places,  stood  by  his  side,  and  the 
fragments  of  the  chaise  lay  scattered  at  their  feet 
The  post-boys,  who  h^d  succeeded  in  cutting  the 
traces,  were  standing,  disfigured  with  mud  and 
disordered  by  hard  riding,  l^y  the  horses'  heads. 
About  a  hundred  yards  in  advance  was  the  other 
chaise,  which  had  pulled  up  on  hearing  the  crash. 
Tlie  postillions,  each  with  a  broad  grin  convulsing 
his  countenance,  were  viewing  the  adverse- party 
from  their  saddles,  and  Mr.  Jingle  was'contem^ 
plating  the  wreck  from  the  coach-window,  with 
evident  satisfaction.  The  day  was  just  breaking, 
and  the  wliole  scene  was  rendered  perfectly  visible 
by  the  gray  light  of  the  morning. 

"Hallo!"  shouted -the   shameless  Jingle,  "any 
body    damnged?  —  elderly    gentlemen — no    light 
weights — dangerous  work — very." 
15* 


174  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

"  You're  a  rascal !"  roared  WardJe. 

"Ha!  ha!"  replied  Jingle;  and  then  he  added, 
with  a  knowing  wink,  and  a  jerk  of  the  thunnb  to- 
wards the  interior  of  the  chaise — "  I  say — she's 
very  well — desires  her  complinnents — begs  you 
won't  trouble  yourself — love  to  Tuppy — won't  you 
get  up  behind  'i — drive  on,  boys." 

The  postillions  resumed  their  proper  attitudes, 
and  away  rattled  the  chaise,  Mr.  Jingle  fluttering 
in  derision  a  white  handkerchief  from  the  coach 
windovv^. 

Nothing  in  the  whole  adventure,  not  even  the 
upset,  had  disturbed  the  calm  and  equable  current 
of  Mr.  Pickwick's  temper.  The  viliany,  however, 
which  could  first  borrow  money  of  his  Aiithful  fol- 
lower, and  then  abbreviate  his  name  to  "  Tuppy," 
was  more  than  he  could  patiently  bear.  He  drew 
his  breath  hard,  and  coloured  up  to  the  very  tips 
of  his  spectacles,  as  he  said,  slowly  and  emphati- 
cally— 

"If  ever  I  meet  that  man  again,  I'll — " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  interrupted  Wardle,  "  that's  all  very 
well:  but  while  we  stand  talking  here,  they'll  get 
their  license,  and  be  married  in  London." 

Mr.  Pickwick  paused,  bottled  up  bis  vengeance, 
and  corked  it  down. 

"  How  far  is  it  to  the  next  st;ig€?"  inquired  Mr 
¥/ardle  of  one  of  the  boys. 

"  Six  mile,  ain't  it,  Tom  ?" 

"  Rayther  better." 

"Rayther  better  nor  six  mile,  sir." 

"Can't  be  helped,"  said  Wardle ;  we  must  walk 
it,  Pickwick," 

"No  he^p  for  it,"  replied  that  truly  great  maH. 

So  sending  forward  one  of  the  boys  on  horse- 
back, to  procure  a  fresh  chaise  and  horses,  and 
leaving  the  other  behind  to  take  care  of  the  broken 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  175 

one,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Wardle  set  manfully 
forward  on  the  walk,  first  tying  their  shawls  round 
their  necks,  and  slouching  down  their  hats  to 
escape  as  much  as  possible  from  the  deluge  of  rain, 
which  after  a  slight  cessation,  had  agnin  begun  to 
pour  heavily  down. 


176  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


CHAPTER  X. 

CLEARING  UP  ALL    DOUBTS  (iF  AJfY    EXISTED)  OF    THE 
DISINTERESTEDNESS  OF  MR.  JINGLE'S  CHARACTEE. 

There  are  in  London  several  old  inns,  once  the 
head  quarters  of  celebrated  coaches  in  the  days 
when  coaches  performed  their  journeys  in  a  graver 
and  nnore  solemn  manner  than  they  do  in  these 
times;  but  which  have  now  degenerated  into  httle 
more  than  the  abiding  and  booking  places  of  coun- 
try wagons.  The  reader. would  look  in  vain  for 
any  of  these  ancient  hostelries,  among  the  Golden 
Crosses  and  Bull  and  Mouths,  which  rear  their 
stately  fronts  in  the  improved  streets  of  London. 
If  he  would  light  upon  any  of  these  old  places,  he 
must  direct  his  steps  to  the  obscurer  quarters  of 
the  town;  and  there  in  some  secluded  nooks  he 
will  find  several,  still  standing  with  a  kind  of 
gloomy  sturdiness,  amidst  the  modern  innovations 
which  surround  them. 

In  the  borough  especially, there  still  remain  some 
half  dozen  old  inns,  vv'hich  have  preserved  their 
external  features  unchanged,  and  which  have  es- 
caped alike  the  rage  for  public  improvement,  and 
the  encroachments  of  private  speculations.  Great, 
rambling,  queer  old  places  they  arc,  with  galleries, 
and  passages  and  stair-cases,  wide  enough  and  ai> 
liquated  enough,  to  furnish  materials  for  a  hundred 
ghost  stories,  supposing  we  should  ever  be  reduced 
to  the  lamentable  necessity  of  inventing  any,  and 


THE  ncxvvicK  club.  177 

that  the  world  should  exist  long  enough  to  exhaust 
the  innumerable  veracious  legends  connected  with 
old  London  Bridge,  and  its  adjacent  neighbourhood 
on  the  Surrey  side. 

It  was  in  the  yard  oi  one  of  those  inns — of  no 
less  celebrated  a  one  than  the  White  "Hart — that  a 
man  was  busiiy  employed  in  brushing  the  dirt  oii 
a  pair  of  boots,  early  on  the  morning  succeeding 
the  events  narrated  in  the  last  chapter.  He  was 
habited  in  a  coarse  striped  waistcoat,  with  black 
calico  sleeves,  and  blue  glass  buttons:  drab  brceclies 
and  leggings.  A  bright  red  handkerchief  was 
wound  in  a  very  loose  and  unstudied  style  round 
his  neck,  and  an  old  wliite  hat  was  carelessly 
thrown  on  one  side  of  his  head.  There  were  two 
rows  of  boots  before  him,  one  cleaned  and  (he 
other  dirty,  and  at  every  addition  he  made  to  the 
clean  row,  he  paused  from  his  work,  and  contem- 
plated its  results  with  evident  satisfaction. 

The  yard  presented  none  of  that  bustle  and  ac- 
tivity which  are  the  usual  cliaracteristics  of  a  large 
coach  inn.  Three  or  four  lumbering  wagons,  each 
with  a  pile  of  goods  beneath  its  am.ple  canopy, 
about  the  height  of  the  second-floor  window  ^f  '^^^^ 
crdlr.ary  house,  were  stowed  away  beneath  a  lofty 
roof  wiiich  extended  over  one  end  of  the  yard ;_  and 
another,  which  was  probably  to  commence  its 
journey  that  morning,  was  dravv'n  out  into  the 
open  space.  A  double  tier  of  bed-room  galleries, 
with  old  clumsy  balustrades,  ran  round  two  sides-, 
of  the  straggling  area,  and  a  double  row  of  bells 
to  correspond,  sheltered  from  the  weather  by  a  lit- 
tle sloping  roof,  hung  over  the  door  leading  to  the 
bar  and  coffee-room.  Two  or  three  gigs  and 
chaise-carts  were  wheeled  up  under  different  little 
sheds  and  pent-houses;  and  the  occasional  heavy 
tread  of  a  cart-horse,  or  rattling  of  a  chain  at  the 
farther  end  of  the  vard,  announced  to  any  body 


178  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

who  cared  about  the  matter,  that  the  stable  lay  in 
that  direction.  When  we  add  that  a  few  boys  in 
smock  frocks,  were  lying  asleep  on  heavy  pack- 
ages, woolpacks,  and  other  articles  that  were 
scattered  about  on  heaps  of  straw,  wc  have  de- 
scribed as  fidly  as  need  be,  the  general  appearance 
of  the  yard  of  the  White  Hart  Inn,  High  Street, 
Borough,  on  the  particular  morning  in  question. 

A  loud  ringing  of  one  of  the  bells  was  followed 
by  the  appearance  of  a  smart  chambermaid  in  the 
upper  sleeping  gallery,  who,  after  tapping  at  one 
of  the  doors,  and  receiving  a  request  from  vviihin, 
called  over  the  balustrades — 

"  Sam  !" 

*' Hallo,"  replied  the  man  with  tlie  white  hat. 

"  Number  twenty-two  wants  his  boots." 

•'  Ask  number  twenty-two,  vether  he'll  have  'em 
now,  or  vait  'till  he  gets  'em,"  was  the  reply. 

"Come,  don't  be  a  fool,  Sam,"  said  the  girl, 
coaxingly;  "the  gentleman  wants  his  boots  di- 
rectly." 

"  Well,  you  are  a  iiice  young  'ooman  for  a  mu- 
sical party,  you  are,"  said  the  boot-cleaner.  "  Look 
at  these  here  boots — eleven  pair  'o  boots;  and  one 
shoe  as  b'longs  to  number  six,  wiili  the  wooden  le;^. 
The  eleveri  boots  is  to  be  called  at  half-past  eight, 
and  the  shoe  at  nine.  Wiio's  number  twenty-two, 
that's  to  put  all  the  others  out  ?  No,  no;  reg'lar 
rotation,  as  Jack  Ketch  said,  ven  he  tied  the  men 
up.  Sorry  to  keep  you  a  waltin',  sir,  but  I'll  attend 
to  you  directly." 

Saying  which,  the  man  in  the  white  hat  set  to 
work  upon  a  top-boat  with  increased  assiduity. 

There  w-as  another  loud  ring;  and  the  bustling 
old  landlady  of  the  White  Hart  made  her  appear- 
ance in  the  opposite  gallery. 

"Sam,"  cried  the  landlady,  "  where's.that  lazy, 


THE   PICKWICK  CLUB.  179 

idle — why  Sam — oh,   there  you   are;  why  don't 
you  answer?" 

"  Vouldn't  be  gen-teel  to  ansv;er,  'till  you'd  done 
talking,"  replied  Sam,  gruffly. 

"  Here,  clean  them  shoes  for  number  seventeen 
directly,  and  take  'em  to  private  sitting-room,  num- 
ber five,  first  floor." 

The  landlady  flung  a  pair  of  lady's  shoes  into 
the  yard,  and  bustled  away. 

"Number  5,"  said  Sam,  as  he  picked  up  the 
shoes — and  taking  a  piece  of  chalk  from  his  pocket, 
made  a  memorandum  of  their  destination  on  the 
soles — "  Lady's  shoes,  and  private  sittin'-room  !  I 
suppose  slie  didn't  come  in  the  vaggin." 

'"'  She  came  in  early  this  morning,"  cried  the 
girl,  who  was  still  leaning  over  the  railing  of  the 
gallery,  "with  a  gentleman  in  a  hackney-coach, 
and  it's  him  as  wants  his  boots — and  you'd  better 
do  'em,  and  that's  all  about  it." 

"  Vy  didn't  you  say  so  before,"  said  Sam,  with 
great  indignation,  singling  out  the  hoots  in  ques- 
tion from  the  heap  before  him.  "  For  all  I  know'd, 
he  vas  one  o'  the  regular  three-pennies.  Private 
room  !  and  a  lady,  too  !  If  he's  any  thing  of  a  gen- 
'I'm'n,  he's  vorLh  a  shillin'  a  day,  let  alone  the  ar- 
rands." 

Stimulated  by  the  inspiring  reflection,  Mr.  S;i- 
muel  brushed  away  with  such  hearty  good  will, 
that  in  a  few  minutes  the  boots  and  shoes,  with  a 
polish  which  would  have  struck  envy  to  the  soul 
of  the  amiable  Mr.  Warren,  (for  they  used  Day  and 
Martin  at  the  White  Hart,)  had  arrived  at  the  door 
of  number  five. 

"  Come  in,"  said  a  man's  voice,  in  reply  to  Sam's 
rap  at  the  door. 

Sam  made  his  best  bow,  and  stepped  into  the 
presence  of  a  lady  and  gentleman,  seated  at  break- 
fast.    Having  ofliciously  deposited  the  gentleman's 


ISO  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

boots  right  and  left  at  Iks  feet,  and  the  lady's  shoes 
right  and  left  at  hers,  he  backed  towards  the  door. 

"  Boots,"  ^aid  the  gentleman. 

'' Sir,'^  said  Sam,  closing  the  door,  and  keeping 
his  hand  on  Ihe  knob  of  the  Jock. 

''  Do  you  know — what's  a-narne — Doctors'  Com- 
mons f 

"  Yes,  sir." 

''Where  is  itf 

"Paul's  Ch.urch-yard,  sir;  low  archway  on  (he 
<;arriage-side,  bookseller's  at  one  corner,  hot-el  on 
the  other,  and  two  porters  in  the  middle  as  louts  Lr 
licenses." 

"  Touts  for  licenses !"  said  the  gentleman. 

"  Touts  for  hcenses,"  replied  Sam.  "  Two  coves 
fn  vhite  aprons — touches  their  hats  ven  you  w\ilk 
in — 'License,  sir,-  license?'  Queer  sort,  them, 
and  their  mas'rs,  too,  sir — Old  ];ailey  Proctors — 
and  no  nHt^'ake." 

"  Wiiat  do  they  do'("  inquired  the  gentleman. 

"Do!  You  sir!  That  ain't  the  worst  on  it, 
neither.  .  Tliey  puts  things  in  old  gen'l'm'ns  heads 
as  they  never  dreamed  of.  My  father,  sir,  vos  a 
coaclirnan.  A  vidower  be  vos,  ai^.d  fat  enough  for 
any  thing — uncommon  fat,  to  be  sure.  His  mis- 
sus dies,  and  leaves  him  four  hundred  pound. 
Down  he  goes  to  the  Commons,  to  see  the  lawyer, 
and  draw  the  blunt — worry  smart — top  boots  on — 
nosegay  in  liis  button-hole— broad-brimmed  tile- 
green  shawl — quite  the  geo'i'm'n.  Goes  through 
the  archvay,  thinking  how  he  should  inwcst  the 
money;  up  comes  the  toutcr,  touches  his  hat — 
*  License,  sir,  license?  ^What's  that?'  says  my 
father.  'License,  sir,' says  he.  '\^'hat  license?' 
says  my  father.  *  Marriage  license,'  says  the 
touter.  'Dash  my  veskit,'  says  my  father,  'I 
never  thought  o'  that.'  '  I  think  you  wants  one,  sir,' 
says  the  toutcr.     My  father  pulls  up,  and  thinks  a 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  181 

bit.    *  No,'  says  he,  *  d e,  I'm  too  old ;  b'sides,  I'm 

a  many  sizes  loo  large,'  says  he.  'Not  a  bit  on  it, 
sir,'  says  the  touter.  'Think  not?'  says  my  father. 
'  I'm  sure  not,'  says  he  ;  *  we  married  a  gen'l'm'n 
twice  your  size,  last  Monday.'  •  Did  you,  though,' 
says  my  father.  'To  be  sure,  ve  did,'  §ays  the 
touter — 'you're  a  baby  to  him— this  vay,  sir — this 
vay  !' — and  sure  enough  my  Mher  walks  arter  him 
like  a  tame  monkey  behind  a  horgan,  into  a  little 
back  office,  vere  a  feller  sat  among  dirty  papers 
and  tin  boxes,  making  believe  he  was  busy.  'Pray 
take  a  seat,  vile  I  makes  out  the  affidavit,  sir,'  says 
the  lawyer.  'Thankee,  sir,'  says  my  father,  and 
down  he  sat,  and  stared  vith  all  his  eyes,  and  his 
mouth  vide  open,  at  the  names  on  the  boxes. — 
'  What's  your  name,  sir,'  says  the  lawyer.  '  Tony 
Weller,'  says  my  father.  '  Parish?  says  the  lawyer. 
'  Belle  Savage,' says  my  father,  for  he  stopped  there 
vcn  he  drove  up,  and  he  knovv'd  nothing  about 
parishes,  he  did'nt.  '  And  what's  the  lady's  name? 
says  the  lawyer.  My  father  was  struck  all  of  a 
heap.  'Blessed  if  I  know,'  says  he.  '  Not  know!' 
says  the  lawyer.  'No  more  nor  you  do,'  says  my 
father — 'can't  I  put  that  in  afterwards  V  '  Impossi- 
ble !'  says  the  lawyer.  '  Werry  well,'  says  my  la- 
ther, after  he'd  thought  a  moment,  '  put  down  ^Trs. 
Clarke.'  '  What  Clarke?  says  the  lawyer,  dipping 
his  pen  in  the  ink.  '  Susan  Clarke,  Markis  o'  Gran- 
by,  Dorking,'  says  my  father ;  '  she'll  have  me,  if  I 
ask  her,  I  dare  say:  I  never  said  nothing  to  her, 
but  she'll  have  me,  I  know.'  The  licefise  was  made 
out,  and  she  (/io?  have  him — and  what's  more,  she's 
got  him  now;  and  I  never  had  any  of  the  four 
hundred  pound,  worse  luck.  Beg  your  pardon, 
sir,"  said  Sam,  when  he  had  concluded,  "  but  vhen 
I  s;ets  on  this  here  grievance,  I  runs  on  like  a  new 
barrow  vith  the  vheel  greased."  Having  said 
which,  and  having  paused  for  an  instant  to  See 
16 


182  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

whether  he  was  wanted  for  any  thing  more,  Sam 
left  the  room. 

" Half-past  nine — ^just  the  lime — off  at  once?" 
said  the  gentleman,  whom  we  need  hardly  intro- 
duce as  Mr.  Jingle. 

"  Time  for  what  ?"  said  the  spinster  aunt,  coquet- 
tishly. 

"  License,  dearest  of  angels — give  notice  at  ihe 
church — call  you  mine  to-morrow" — said  Mr. 
Jingle,  and  he  squeezed  the  spinster  aunt's  hand. 

"  The  license !"  said  Rachael,  blushing. 

"The  license,"  repeated  Mr.  Jingle — 

"In  hurry,  post-haste  for  a  license, 
In  hurry,  ding-  dong  I  come  back.'* 

"  How  you  run  on,''  said  Rachael. 

"  Run  on — nothing  to  the  hours,  days,  weeks, 
months,  years,  when  we're  united — run  on — they'll 
fly  on — bolt — mizzle — steam-engine- — thousand- 
horse  power — nothing  to  it." 

"Can't — can't  we  be  married  before  to-morrow 
morning?"  inquired  Rachael. 

"  Impossible — can't  be — notice  at  the  church — 
leave  the  license  to-day — ceremony  come  off  to- 
row." 

I  am  so  terrified,  lest  my  brother  should  dis- 
cover us !"  said  Rachael. 

"  Discover — nonsense — too  much  shaken  by  the 
break  down — besideSj  extreme  caution — gave  up 
the  post-chaise — walked  on- — took  a  hackney- 
coach — came  to  the  borough — last  place  in  the 
world  that  he'd  look  in — ha!  ha! — capital  notion 
that — very." 

"  Don't  be  long,"  said  the  spinster,  affectionately, 
as  Mr.  Jingle  stuck  the  pinched  up  hat  on  his  head. 

"  Long  away  from  you  ? — Cruel  charmer,"  and 
Mr.  Jingle  skipped  playfully  up   to   the  spinster 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  183 

aunt,  imprinted  a  chaste  kiss  upon  her  lips,  and 
danced  out  of  the  room. 

"  Dear  man  !"  said  the  spinster,  as  the  door  closed 
after  him. 

'•Rum  old  girl,"  said  Mr.  Jingle,  as  he  walked 
down  the  passage. 

It  is  painful  to  reflect  upon  the  perfidy  of  our 
species  ;  and  we  will  not,  tlierefore,  pursue  the 
thread  of  Mr.  Jingle's  meditations,  as  he  wended 
his  way  to  Doctors'  Commons.  It  will  be  sufficient 
for  our  purpose  to  relate,  that  escaping  the  snares 
of  the  dragons  in  white  aprons,  who  guard  the  en- 
trance of  that  enchanted  region,  he  reached  the 
Vicar  General's  office  in  safety,  and  having  pro- 
cured a  highly  flattering  address  on  parchment^ 
from  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  to  his  "  trusty 
and  weil-beloved  Alfred  Jingle  and  Rachael  War- 
die,  greeting,"  he  carefully  deposited  the  mystic 
document  in  his  pocket,  and  retraced  his  steps  in 
triumph  to  the  borough. 

He  was  yet  on  his  way  to  the  White  Hart,  when 
two  plump  gentlemen,  and  one  thin  one,  entered  the 
yard,  and  looked  round  in  search  of  some  authorized 
person  of  whom  they  could  make  a  few  inquiries. 
Mr.  Samuel  Weller  happened  to  be  at  tha,t  moment 
engaged  in  burnishing  a  pair  of  painted  tops,  the 
personal  property  of  a  farmer,  who  was  refresh- 
ing himself  with  a  slight  lunch  of  two  or  three 
pounds  of  cold  beef,  and  a  pot  or  two  of  porter, 
after  the  fatigues  of  the  borough  market;  and  to 
him  the  thin  gentleman  straightway  advanced—: 

"  jNIy  friend,"  said  the  thin  gentleman. 

**  You're  one  o*  the  adwice  gratis  order,"  thought 
Sam,  "or  you  wouldn't  be  so  werry  fond  o'  me  all 
at  once."     But  he  only  said — "Well,  sir." 

"My  friend,"  said  the  thin  gentleman,  with  a 
conciliatory  hem — "  Have  you  got  many  people 
stoppiag  here,  now  1  Pretty  busy.     Eh '?" 


184  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

Sam  stole  a  look  at  the  inquirer.  He  was  a  lit- 
tle high-dried  man,  with  a  dark  squeezed  up  face 
and  small  restless  black  eyes,  that  kept  winking 
and  twinkling  on  each  side  of  his  little  inquisitive 
nose,  as  if  they  were  playing  a  perpetual  game  of 
peep-ho  with  that  feature.  He  w^as  dressed  all  in 
black,  with  boots  as  shiny  as  his  eyes,  a  low  white 
neckcloth,  and  a  clean  shirt  with  a  frill  to  it.  A 
gold  watch-chain,  and  seals,  depended  from  his  fob. 
He  carried  his  black  kid  gloves  i?i  his  hands,  not 
on  them,  and  as  he  spoke,thrust  bis  wrists  beneath 
his  coat-tails,  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  was  in 
the  babit  of  propounding  some  regular  posers. 

"Pretty  busy,  eh?"  said  the  little  man. 

''  Oh,  worry  well,  sir,"  replied  Sam,  "  we  shan't 
be  bankrupts,  and  we  shan't  make  our  forl'ns.  We 
eats  our  boiled  mutton  without  capers,  and  don't 
care  for  horse-radish  ven  ve  can  get  beef." 

"Ah,"  said  the  little  man,  "you're  a  wag,  a'n't 
you  ?" 

^'My  eldest  brother  w^as  troubled  with  that  com- 
plaint," said  Sam,  "it  may  be  catching — I  used  to 
sleep  with  him." 

^'  This  is  a  curious  old  house  of  yours,"  said  the 
little  man,  looking  round  him. 

"  If  you'd  sent  word  you  vras  a  coming,  we'd 
lia'had  it  repaired,"  replied  the  imperturbable  Sam. 

The  little  man  seemed  rather  baffled  by  these 
several  repulses,  and  a  short  consultation  took  place 
between  him  and  the  two  plum  gentlemen.  At 
its  conclusion,  the  little  man  took  a  pinch  of  snuff 
from  an  oblong,  silver  box,  and  was  apparently  on 
the  point  of  renewing  the  conversation,  when  one 
of  the  plump  gentlemen,  who,  in  addition  to  a  be- 
nevolent countenance,  possessed  a  pair  of  specta- 
cles, and  a  pair  of  black  gaiters,  interfered — 

"  The  fact  of  the  matter  is,"  said  the  benevolent 
gentleman,  "  that  my  friend  here  (pointing  to  the 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  185 

other  plumpgentleman)  will  give  you  half  a  guinea 
if  you'll  answer  one  or  two. " 

"Now,  my  clear  sir,  my  dear  sir,"  said  the  little 
man,  "  pray  allow  me ;  my  dear  sir,  the  very  first 
prineiple  to  be  observed  in  these  cases,  is  this :  If 
you  place  a  matter  in  the  hands  of  a  professional 
man,  you  must  in  no  way  interfere  in  the  prog^ress 
of  the  business  ;  you  must  repose  implicit  confi- 
dence in  him.  Really,  Mr.  (he  turned  to  the  other 
plump  gentleman,  and  said,) — I  forget  your  friend's 
name." 

^'  Pickwick,"  said  Mr.  Wardle,  for  it  was  no 
other  than  that  jolly  personage. 

''Ah,  Pickwick — really  Mr.  Pickwick,  my  dear 
sir,  excuse  me  — I  shall  be  happy  to  receive  any 
priv^ate  suggestions  of  yours,  as  amicus  curice,  but 
you  must  see  the  impropriety  of  your  interfering 
with  my  conduct  in  this  case,  with  such  an  ad  cap- 
ta?idum  argument  as  the  offer  of  half  a  guinea, 
Really,  my  dear  sir,  really;"  and  the  little  man  took 
an  argumentative  pinch  of  snufF,  and  looked  very 
profound. 

"  My  only  wish,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  was 
to  bring  this  very  unpleasant  matter  to  as  speedy  a 
close  as  possible." 

"Quite  right — quite  right,"  said  the  little  man. 

*'  With  which  view,"  continued  Mr.  Pickwick, 
"I  made  use  of  the  argument  which,  my  expe- 
rience of  men  has  taught  me  is  the  most  likely  to 
succeed  in  any  case." 

"  Ay,  ay,"  said  the  little  man,  **  very  good,  very 
good,  indeed;  but  you  should  have  suggested  it  to 
me.  My  dear  sir,  I'm.  quite  certain,  you  cannot  be 
ignorant  of  the  extent  of  confidence  which  must 
be  placed  in  professional  men.  If  any  authority 
can  be  necessary  on  such  a  point,  my  dear  sir,  let 
me  refer  vou  to  the  well-known  case  in  Barnwell, 
and— ^" 


186  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

"Never  mind  George  Barnvell,"  interrupted 
Sam,  who  had  remained  a  wondering  listener  during 
this  short  colloquy;  "every  body  knows  vhat  sort 
of  a  case  his  was,  tho'  it's  always  been  my  opinion, 
mind  you,  that  the  young  'ooman  deserved  scrag- 
ging a  precious  sight  more  than  he  did.  Hows'- 
ever,  that's  neither  here  nor  there.  You  want  me 
to  except  of  half  a  guinea.  Worry  well,  I'm 
agreeable:  I  can't  say  no  fairer  than  that,  can  I, 
sir  ?  (Mr.  Pickwick  smiled.)  Then  the  next  ques- 
tions is,  what  the  d — 1  do  you  want  with  me,  as  the 
man  said  when  he  seed  the  ghost?" 

"We  want  to  know" said  Mr.  VVardle. 

"Now,  my  dear  sir — my  dear  sir,"  interposed 
the  busy  little  man. 

Mr.  Wardle  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  was  si- 
lent. 

"  We  want  to  know,"  said  llie  little  man,  solemn- 
ly;"  and  we  ask  the  question  of  you  in  order  that 
we  m.ay  not  awaken  apprehensions  inside — we 
want  to  know  who  you've  got  m  this  house,  at  pre- 
sent." 

''Who  there  is  in  the  house!"  said  Sam,  in 
whose  mind  the  inmates  were  always  represented 
by  that  particular  article  of  tlieir  costume,  which 
came  under  his  immediate  superintendence. — 
"There's  a  vooden  leg  in  number  six,  there's  a 
pair  of  Hes^^ians  in  thirteen,  there's  two  pair  of 
halves  in  the  commercial,  there's  these  here  painted 
tops  in  the  snuggery  inside  the  bar,  and  five  more 
tops  in  the  coftee-room.'* 

"  Nothing  more?"  said  the  little  man. 

"  Stop  a  bit,"  replied  Sam,  suddenly  recollecting 
himself.  "Yes;  there's  a  pair  of  Vellingtons,  a 
good  deal  vorn,  and  a  pair  o'  lady's  shoes,  in  num- 
ber five." 

"  What  sort  of  shoes?''  hastily  inquired  Wardle, 
who,  together  with  Mr.  Pickwick,  had  been  lost 


THE  FICKWICK  CLUB.  1S7 

in  bewilderment  at  the  singular  catalogue  of  visit- 
ers. 

"Country  make,"  replied  Sam. 

"Any  maker's  name?" 

'^  Brown.'"' 

''Where  off" 

''  Muggleton." 

"  It  is  them,"  exclaimed  V/ardle.  ''  By  heaven's, 
we've  found  them." 

^'  Hush  !"  said  Sam.  "  The  Vellingtons  has  gone 
to  Doctors'  Commons." 

"No!"  said  the  little  man. 

"  Yes,  for  a  license." 

"  We're  in  time,"  exclaimed  Wardle.  "  Sliow  us 
the  room ;  not  a  moment  is  to  be  lost." 

"  Pray,  my  dear  sir — pray,"  said  the  little  man  ; 
"caution,  caution."  He  drew  from  his  pocket  a 
red  silk  purse,  and  looked  very  hard  at  Sam,  as  he 
drew  out  a  sovereign. 

Sam  grinned  expressively. 

«'  Show  us  into  tlie  room  at  once,  without  an- 
nouncing us,"  said  the  little  man,  "and  it'syours." 

Sam  threw  the  painted  tops  into  a  corner,  and 
led  the  way  threw  a  dark  passage,  and  up  a  wide 
staircase.  He  paused  at  the  end  of  a  second  pas- 
sage, and  held  out  his  Jiand. 

"Here  it  is,"  whispered  the  attorney,  as  he  de- 
posited the  money  in  the  hand  of  their  guide. 

The  man  stepped  forward  for  a  few  paces,  fol- 
lowed by  the  two  friends  and  tircir  legal  adviser. 
He  stopped  at  a  door. 

"Is  this  the  roomT"  murmured  the  little  gentle- 
man. 

8am  nodded  assent. 

Old  Wardle  opened  the  door;  and  the  wiiole 
three  walked  into  the  room  just  as  Mr.  Jingle,  who 
had  that  moment  returned,  had  produced  tlie  li- 
cense to  the  spinster  aiuit. 

The  spinster  uttered  a  loud  shriek,  and,  throw- 


188  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OP 

ing  herself  in  a  chair,  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands.  Mr.  Jingle  crumpled  up  the  license,  and 
thrust  it  into  his  coat-pocket.  The  unwelcome 
visiters  advanced  into  the  middle  of  the  room. 

*' You— you  are  a  nice  rascal,  ar'n't  you?"  ex- 
claimed Wardle,  breathless  with  passion. 

"My  dear  sir,  my  dear  sir,"  said  the  little  man, 
laying  his  hat  on  the  table.  "Pray,  consider — 
pray.  Scandalum  mag?iatu?n,  defamation  of  cha- 
racter, action  for  damages.  Calm  yourself,  my 
dear  sir,  pray — " 

"  How  dare  you  drag  my  sister  from  my  house?" 
said  the  old  man. 

"  Ay-:-ay — very  good,"  said  the  little  gentleman, 
*•  you  may  ask  that.  How  dare  you,  sir? — eh, 
sir?" 

"  Who  the  d — 1  are  you  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Jingle, 
in  so  tierce  a  tone,  that  the  little  gentleman  invo- 
luntarily fell  back  a  step  or  two. 

"  Who  is  he,  you  scoundrel,"  interposed  Wardle. 
"He's  my  lawyer,  Mr.  Perker,  of  Gray's  Inn. 
Perker,  ril  have  this  fellow  prosecuted — indicted — 
I'll — I'll — d c,  PU  ruin  him.  And  you,"  con- 
tinued Mr.  Wardle,  turning  abruptly  round  to  his 
sister,  "  you,  Rachael,  at  a  time  of  hfe  when  you 
ought  to  know  better,  what  do  you  mean  by  run- 
ninf'-  away  with  a  vagabond,  disgracing  your  fami- 
ly, and  making  yourself  miserable.  Get  on  your 
bonnet,  and  come  back.  Call  a  hackney-coach 
there,  directly,  and  bring  this  lady's  bilb.d'j^e  hear 
— d'ye  hear?" 

♦'  Cert'nly,  sir,"  replied  Sam,  who  had  answered 
Wardle's  violent  ringing  of  the  bell  with  a  degree 
of  celerity,  which  must  have  appeared  marvellous 
to  any  body  who  didn't  know  that  his  eye  had  been 
applied  to  the  outside  of  the  key-hole  during  the 
whole  interview. 

"  Get  on  your  bonnet,"  repeated  Wardle. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  189 

"  Do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  Jingle.  "  Leave 
the  room,  sir — no  business  here — lady's  (rcc  lo  act 
as  she  pleases — more  than  one-and-twenty." 

"More  than  one-and-twenty!"  ejaculated  War- 
die,  contemptuously.     "More  than  one-and-forty  !" 

"I  a'nt,"  said  the  spinster  aunt,  her  indignation 
getting  the  better  of  her  determination  to  faint. 

"You  are,"  replied  Wardle,  "you're  fifty  if 
you're  an  hour." 

Here  the  spinster  aunt  uttered  a  loud  shriek,  and 
became  senseless. 

"A  glass  of  water,"  said  the  humane  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, summoning  the  landlady. 

"  A  glass  of  water  !"  said  the  passionate  Wardle. 
"  Bring  a  bucket,  and  throw  it  all  over  her ;  it'll  do 
her  good,  and  she  richly  deserves  it." 

"Ugh,  you  brute!"  ejaculated  the  kind-hearted 
landlady.  "  Poor  dear."  And  with  sundry  ejacu- 
lations, of  "  Come  now,  there's  a  dear — -drink  a 
little  of  this — it'll  do  you  good — don't  give  way  so 
—there's  a  love,"  &c.  &c.,  the  landlady,  assisted 
by  a  chambermaid,  proceeded  to  vinegar  the  fore- 
head, beat  the  hands,  titillate  the  nose,  and  unlace 
tlie  stays  of  the  spinster  aunt,  and  to  administer 
such  other  restoratives  as  are  usually  applied  by 
compassionate  females  to  ladies  who  are  endea- 
vouring to  ferment  themselves  into  hysterics. 

"Coach  is  ready,  sir,"  said  Sam,  appearing  at 
the  door. 

"Come  along,"  cried  Wardle.  "Pll  carry  her 
down  stairs." 

At  this  proposition,  the  hysterics  came  on  with 
redoubled  violence. 

The  landlady  was  about  to  enter  a  very  violent 
protest  against  this  proceeding,  and  had  already 
given  vent  to  an  indignant  iisquiry  whether  Mr, 
Wardle  considered  himself  a  lord  of  the  creation, 
vAkx]  Mr.  Jingle  interposed-— 


100  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

"  Boots,"  said  he,  "  get  me  an  officer." 

"  Stay,  stay,"^  said  little  Mr.  Perker.  Consider 
sir,  consider." 

"  I'll  7iot  consider,"  replied  Jingle,  ^'  she's  her 
own  mistress — see  who  dares  to  take  her  away — 
unless  she  wishes  it." 

"  1 2i'o?iU  be  taken  away,"  murmured  the  spinster 
aunt.  "  I  don''t  wish  it."  (Here  there  was  a  fright- 
ful relapse.) 

*'My  dear  sir,"  said  the  little  man,  in  a  low 
tone,  taking  Mr.  Wardie  and  Mr.  Pickwick  apart: 
"  My  dear  sir,  we^^e  in  a  very  awkward  situation. 
It's  a  distressing  case — very;  I  never  knew  one 
more  so;  but  really,  my  dear  sir,,  really  we  have 
no  power  to  control  this  lady's  actions.  I  warned 
you  before  we  came,  my  dear  sir,  that  there  was 
nothing  to  look  to  but  a  compromise. 

There  was  a  short  pause. 

"  What  kind  of  compromise  would  yo,u  recom- 
mend ?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Why,  my  dear  sir,  our  friend's  in  an  unplea- 
sant position — very  much  so.  We  must  be  content 
to  suffer  some  pecuniary  loss." 

"  I'll  suffer  any,  rather  than  submit  to  this  dis- 
grace, and  let  her,  fool  as  she  is,  be  made  miser- 
able for  life,"  said  Wardie. 

"  I  rather  think  it  can  be  done,"  said  the  bustling 
little  man.  "  Mr.  Jingle,  will  you  step  with  us 
into  the  next  room  for  a  moment  ^'''^ 

Mr.  Jingle  assented,  and  the  quartette  walked 
into  an  empty  apartment. 

"Now^  sir,"  said  the  little  man,  as  he  carefully 
closed  the  door,  "is  there  no  way  of  accommo- 
dating this  matter — step  this  way^  sir,  for  a  mo- 
ment— into  this  window,  sir,  where  we  can  be 
alone — there,  sir,  there,  pray  sit  down,  sir.  Now, 
my  dear  sir,  between  you  and  I,  we  know  very 
well,  my  dear  sir,  that  vou  have  run  ofl'  with  this 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  191 

Jady  for  the  sake  of  her  money.  Don*t  frown,  sir, 
don't  frown  ;  I  say,  between  you  and  I,  we  know  it. 
We  are  both  men  of  the  world,  and  we  know  very 
well  that  our  friends  here,  are  not — eh  f 

Mr.  Jingle's  face  gradually  relaxed ;  and  some- 
thing distantly  resembling  a  wink,  quivered  for  an 
instant  in  his  left  eye. 

"Very  good,  very  good,"  said  the  little  man, 
observing  the  impression  he  had  made.  "  Now 
the  fact  is,  that  beyond  a  few  hundreds,  the  lady 
has  little  or  nothing  till  the  death  of  her  mother — 
fine  old  lady,  my  dear  sir." 

^'  Old,''  said  Mr.  Jingle,  briefly  but  emphatically. 

"  Why,  yes,"  said  the  attorney,  with  a  slight 
cough.  "  You  are  right;  my  dear  sir,  she  is  rather 
old.  She  comes  of  an  old  family  though,  my  dear 
sir ;  old  in  every  sense  of  the  word.  The  founder 
of  that  family  came  into  Kent,  when  Julius  Caesar 
invaded  Britain; — only  one  member  of  it,  cince, 
who  hasn't  lived  to  eighty-five,  and  he  was  be- 
headed by  one  of  the  Henrys.  The  old  lady  is  not 
seventy-three  now,  my  dear  sir."  The  Httle  man 
paused,  and  took  a  pinch  of  snuft'. 

'-  Well,"  cried  Mr.  Jingle. 

"  Well,  my  dear  sir — you  don't  take  snuff"? — 
ah!  so  much  the  better — expensive  habit- — well,  my 
dear  sir,  you're  a  fine  young  man,  man  of  the 
world — able  to  push  your  fortune,  if  vou  had  capi- 
tal, eh?"  "      . 

'•  Well,"  said  Mr.  Jingle  again. 

"  Do  you  comprehend  me  ?" 

"  Not  quite." 

"  Don't  you  think — now,  my  dear  sir,  I  put  it  to 
you,  do?i't  you  think — that  fifty  pounds,  and  liberty, 
would  be  better  than  Miss  Wardle  and  expec'ta- 
tion  ?" 

"  Won't  do — not  half  enough?"  said  Mr.  Jingle, 


192  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

"  Nay,  nay,  my  dear  sir,"  remonstrated  the  lit- 
tle attorney,  seizing  him  by  the  button.  ''Good 
round  sum — a  man  like  you  could  treble  it  in  no 
time — great  deal  to  be  done  with  tifty  pounds,  my 
dear  sir." 

"More  to  be  done  with  a  hundred  and  fifty,"  re- 
plied Mr.  Jingle,  coolly. 

"  Well,  my  dear  sir,  we  won't  waste  time  in 
splitting  straws,"  resumed  the  little  man,  "  say — 
say — seventy." 

"Won't  do,"  said  Mr.  Jingle. 
"Don't  go  away,  my  dear  sir—pray  don't  hur- 
ry," said  the  little  man.     "  Eighty;  come;  I'll  write 
you  a  cheque  at  once." 

"  Won't  do,"  said  Mr.  Jingle, 
"  Well,  my  dear  sir,  well,"  said  the  little  man, 
still  detaining  him  ;  "just  tell  me  what  zvill  do." 

"Expensive  afFair,"  said  Mr.  Jingle.  "  Money 
out  of  pocket — posting,  nine  pounds;  license,  three 
— that's  twelve — compensation,  a  hundred — hun- 
dred and  twelve — breach  of  honoiir — and  loss  of 
the  lady—" 

"  Yes,  my  dear  sir,  yes,"  said  the  little  man,  with 
a  knowing  look,  ^'  never  mind  the  last  two  items. 
That's  a  hundred  and  twelve — say  a  hundred — 
come." 

"And  twenty,"  said  Mr.  Jingle. 
"Come,  come,  I'll  w^rite   you    a  cheque,"  saitl 
the  little  man;  and  down  he  sat  at  the  table  for 
that  purpose. 

"I'll  make  it  payable  the  day  after  to-morrow," 
said  the  little  man,  with  a  look  tow^ards  Mr.  War- 
die;  "  and  we  can  get  the  lady  away,  meanwhile." 
Mr.  Wardle  sullenly  nodded  assent. 
"A  hundred,"  said  the  little  man. 
"  And  twenty,"  said  Mr.  Jingle. 
"  My  dear  sir,"  remonstrated  the  little  man. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  193 

"  Give  it  him,"  interposed  Mr.  Wardle,  "  and  let 
him  go." 

The  cheque  was  written  by  the  little  gentlenian, 
and  pocketed  by  Mr.  Jingle. 

"  Now,  leave  this  house  instantly  !"  said  Wardle, 
starting  up. 

"My  dear  sir,"  urged  the  little  nnan. 

"And  mind,"  said  Mr.  Wardle,  "that  nothing 
should  have  induced  me  to  make  this  compromise 
— not  even  a  regard  for  my  family — if  I  had  not. 
known,  that  the  moment  you  got  any  money  in 
that  pocket  of  yours,  you'd  go  to  the  devil  faster, 
if  possible,  than  you  would  without  it — " 

"  My  dear  sir,"  urged  the  little  man  again. 

"  Be  quiet,  Perker,"  resumed  Wardle.  "  Leave 
the  room,  sir." 

"  Oif  directly,''  said  the  unabashed  Jingle.  "'  Bye 
— bye — Pickwick.'' 

If  any  dispassionate  spectator  could  have  beheld 
the  countenance  of  the  illustrious  man,  whose  name 
forms  the  leading  feature  of  the  title  of  this  work, 
during  the  latter  part  of  this  conversation,  he  would 
have  been  almost  induced  to  wonder  that  the  in- 
dignant tire  which  flashed  from  his  eyes,  did  not 
melt  the  glasses  of  his  spectacles — so  majestic  was 
his  wrath.  His  nostrils  dilated,  and  his  lists  clench- 
ed involuntarily,  as  he  heard  himself  addressed  by 
the  villain.  But  he  restrained  himself  again — he 
did  not  pulverise  him. 

"Here,"  continued  the  hardened  traitor,  tossing 
the  license  at  Mr.  Pickwick's  feet;  "get  the  name 
altered — take  home  the  lady — do  for  Tuppy." 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  a  philosopher,  but  philoso- 
phers are  only  men  in  armour,  after  all.  The  shaft 
had  reached  him,  penetrated  through  his  philoso- 
phical harness,  to  his  very  heart.  In  the  frenzy  of 
his  rage,  he  hurled  the  inkstand  madly  forward, 
17 


194  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  07 

and  followed  it  up  himself.  But  Mr.  Jingle  htid 
disappeared,  and  he  found  himself  caught  in  the 
arms  of  Sam. 

"  Hallo,"  said  that  eccentric  functionary,  "  fur- 
niter's  cheap  vere  you  come  from.  Self-actin^^ 
ink,  that  'ere ;  it's  wrote  your  mark  upon  the  wall, 
old  gen'l'm'n.  Hold  still,  sir :  wot's^the  use  o'  run- 
nin'  arter  a  man  as  has  made  his  lucky,  and  got  to 
t'other  end  of  the  borough  by  this  time." 

Mr.  Pickwick's  mind,  like  those  of  all  truly  great 
men,  was  open  to  conviction.  He  was  a  quick^ 
and  powerful  reasoner ;  and  a  moment's  reflection 
sufticed  to  remind  him  of  the  impotcncy  of  his  rage. 
It  subsided  as  c^uickly  as  it  had  been  roused.  He 
panted  for  breath  unS  looked  benignantly  round 
upon  his  friends. 

Shall  we  tell  the  lamentations  that  ensued,  when 
Miss  Wardle  found  herself  deserted  by  the  faith- 
less Jingle?  Shall  we  extract  Mr.  Pickwick's  mas- 
terly description  of  that  heart-rending  scene  l  His 
note-book,  blotted  with  the  tears  of  sympathizing 
humanity,  lies  open  before  us;  one  word,  and  it  is 
in  the  printer's  hands.  But,  no!  we  will  be  reso- 
lute! We  will  not  wring  the  public  bosom,  with 
the  delineation  of  such  sutFering. 

Slowly  and  sadly  did  the  two  friends  and  the 
deserted  lady,  return  next  day  in  the  Muggleton 
heavy  coach.  Dimly  and  darkly  had  the  sombre 
shadows  of  a  summer's  night  fallen  upon  all  around, 
when  they  again  reached  Dingley  Dell,  and  stood 
within  the  entrance  of  Manor  Farm. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB,  195 


CHAPTER  XL 


INVOLVING  ANOTHER   JOURIVEY,  AND  AN    ANTIQUARIAN' 

DiscovEay,  recording  mr.  pickwick's  determina- 
tion TO  BE  PRESENT  AT  AN  ELECTION  ;  AND  CON- 
TAINING   A  MANUSCRIPT  OF    THE  OLD  CLERGyMAN'&. 


A  NIGHT  of  quiet  and  repose  in  the  profound 
silence  of  Dingley  Dell,  and  an  hour's  breathing 
of  its  fresh  and  fragrant  air  on  the  ensuing  morn- 
ing, completely  recovered  Mr.  Pickwick  from  the 
effects  of  his  late  fatigue  of  bod}^  and  anxiety  of 
mind.  That  illustrious  man  had  been  separated 
from  his  friends  and  followers,  for  two  whole  days: 
and  it  was  with  a  degree  of  pleasure  and  delight, 
which  no  common  imagination  can  adequately 
conceive,  that  he  stepped  forward  to  greet  MPi 
Winkle  and  Mr.  Snodgrass,  as  he  encountered 
those  gentlemen  on  his  return  from  his  early  walk. 
The  [)leasure  was  mutual;  for  who  could  ever  gaze 
on  Mr.  Pickwick's  beaming  face  without  experi- 
encing the  sensation  ?  But  still  a  cloud  seemed  to 
hang  over  his  companions,  wdiich  that  great  man 
could  not  but  be  sensible  of,  and  was  wholly  at  a 
loss  to  account  for.  There  was  a  mysterious  ai;- 
about  them  both,  as  unusual  as  it  was  alarming. 

"  And  how,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  when  he  had 
grasped  his  followers  by  the  hand,  and  exchanged 
warm  salutations  of  welcome  ;  "  how  is  Tupmanr' 

Mr.  Winkle,  to  whom  the  question  was  more 
peculiarly  addressed,  made  no  reply.  He  turned 
away  his  head,  and  appeared  absorbed  in  melan- 
choly reflection. 


196  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

"  Snodgrass,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  earnestly, 
*^  how  is  our  friend — he  is  not  ill?' 

"  No,"  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass ;  and  a  tear  trem- 
bled on  his  sentimental  eye-lid,  like  a  rain-drop  on 
a  window-frame.     No;  he  is  not  ill." 

Mr.  Pickwick  stopped,  and  gazed  on  each  of 
his  friends  in  turn. 

"  Winkle — Snodgrass,'^  said  Mr.  Pickwick  ; 
*' what  does  this  mean?  Where  is  our  friend? 
What  has  happened  ?  Speak — I  conjure,  I  entreat 
— nay,  I  command  you,  speak." 

There  was  a  solemnity — a  dignity — in  Mr. 
Pickwick's  manner,  not  to  be  withstood. 

"  He  is  gone,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"  Gone  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  gone  !" 

"  Gone,"  repeated  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

''Where?"  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick. 

''We  can  only  guess,  from  that  communica- 
tion/' replied  Mr.  Snodgrass,  taking  a  letter  from 
his  pocket,  and  placing  it  in  his  friend's  hand. 
"Yesterday  morning,  when  a  letter  was  received 
from  Mr.  Wardle,  stating  that  you  would  be  home 
with  his  sister  at  night,  the  melancholy  which  had 
hung  over  our  friend  during  the  whole  of  the  pre- 
vious day,  was  observed  to  increase.  He  shortly 
afterw^ards  disappeared  :  he  was  missing  during  the 
whole  day,  and  in  the  evening  this  letter  was 
brought  by  the  hostler  from  the  Crown,  at  Mug- 
gleton.  It  had  been  left  in  his  charge  in  the  morn- 
ing, with  a  strict  injunction  thot  it  should  not  be 
delivered  until  nighl." 

Mr.  Pickwick  opened  the  epistle.  It  was  in  his 
friend's  hand-writing,  and  these  were  its  contents: 

"My  dear  Pickwick, 

"  You,  my  dear  friend,  are  placed  far  be- 
yond the  reach  of  many  mortal  frailties  and  weak- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  197 

nesses  which  ordinary  people  cannot  overconne. 
You  do  not  know  what  it  is,  at  one  blow,  to  be  de- 
serted by  a  lovely  and  fascinating  creature,  and  to 
fall  a  victim  to  the  artifices  of  a  villain,  who  hid 
the  grin  of  cunning  beneath  the  mask  of  friend- 
ship.    I  hope  you  never  may. 

"Any  letter,  addressed  to  me  at  the  Leather 
Bottle,  Cobham,  Kent,  will  be  forwarded — sup- 
posing I  still  exist.  I  hasten  from  the  sight  of  that 
world,  which  has  become  odious  to  me.  Should  I 
hasten  from  it  altogether,  pity — forgive  me.  Life, 
my  dear  Pickwick,  has  become  insupportable  to 
me.  The  spirit  which  burns  within  us,  is  a  por- 
ter's knot,  on  which  to  rest  the  heavy  load  of 
worldly  cares  and  troubles;  and  when  that  spirit 
fails  us,  the  burden  is  too  heavy  to  be  borne.  We 
sink  beneath  it.  You  may  tell  Rachael — Ah,  that 
name  I— 

"  Tracy  Tupman." 

"  We  must  leave  this  place  directly,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  as  he  refolded  the  note.  "  It  would  not 
have  been  decent  for  us  to  remain  here,  under  any 
circumstances,  after  what  has  happened;  and,  now, 
we  are  bound  to  follow  in  search  of  our  friend." 
And  so  saying,  he  led  the  way  to  the  house. 

His  intentions  was  rapidly  communicated.  The 
entreaties  to  remain  were  pressing,  but  Mr.  Pick- 
wick was  inflexible.  Business,  he  said,  required 
his  immediate  attendance. 

The  old  clergyman  was  present. 

"  You  are  not  really  going  f  said  he,  taking  Mr. 
Pickwick  aside. 

Mr.  Pickwick  reiterated  his  former  determina- 
tion. 

"  Then  here,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  is  a  lit- 
tle manuscript,  which  I  had  hoped  to  have  the 
17* 


198  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OP- 

pleasure  of  reading  to  you  myself.  I  found  it  on 
the  death  of  a  friend  of  mine — a  nnedical  man,  en- 
gaged in  our  County  Lunatic  Asylum — among  a 
variety  of  papers,  which  I  had  the  option  of  de- 
stroying or  preserving,  as  I  thought  proper.  I  can 
hardly  believe  that  the  manuscript  is  genuine, 
though  it  certainly  is  not  in  my  friend's  hand. 
How'ever,  whether  it  be  the  genuine  production  of 
a  maniac,  or  founded  upon  the  ravings  of  some 
unhappy  being,  which  1  think  more  probable,  read 
it,  and  judge  for  yourself." 

Mr.  Pickwick  received  the  manuscript,  and 
parted  from  the  benevolent  old  gentleman  with 
many  expressions  of  good  wall  and  esteem. 

It  was  a  more  difficult  task  to  take  leave  of  the 
inmates  of  Manor  Farm,  from  whom  they  had  re- 
ceived so  much  hospitality  and  lundness.  Mr, 
Pickwick  kissed  the  young  ladies — we  were  going 
to  say,  as  if  they  were  his  own  daughters,  only  as 
he  might  possibly  have  infused  a  little  more  warmth 
into  the  salutation,  the  comparison  would  not  be 
quite  appropriate — hugged  the  old  lady  with  filial 
cordiality  :  and  patted  the  rosy  cheeks  of  the  fe- 
male servants  in  a  most  patriarchal  manner,  as  he 
slipped  into  the  hands  of  each,  some  more  substan- 
tial expressions  of  his  approval.  The  exchange  of 
cordialities  with  their  fine  old  host  and  Mr.  Trun- 
dle, were  even  more  hearty  and  prolonged ;  and  it 
was  not  until  Mr.  Snodgrass  had  been  several 
times  called  for,  and  at  last  emerged  from  a  dark 
passage  followed  soon  after  by  Emily  (whose  bright 
eyes  looked  unusually  dim)  that  the  three  friends 
were  enabled  to  tear  themselves  from  their  friendly 
entertainers.  Many  a  backward  look  they  gave 
at  the  Farm,  as  they  walked  slowly  away  :  and 
many  a  kiss  did  Mr.  Snodgrass  waft  in  the  air,  in 
acknowledgment  of  something  very  like  a  lady's 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  199 

handkerchief,  which  was  waved  from  one  of  the 
upper  windows,  until  a  turn  of  the  lane  hid  the  old 
house  from  their  sight. 

At  Muggleton  they  procured  a  conveyance  to 
Rochester.  By  the  time  they  reached  the  last- 
named  place,  the  violence  of  their  grief  had  suf- 
ficiently abated  to  admit  of  their  making  a  very 
excellent  early  dinner;  and  having  procured  the 
necessary  information  relative  to  the  road,  the  three 
friends  set  forward  again  in  the  afternoon  to  walk 
to  Cob  ham. 

A  delightful  walk  it  w^as:  for  it  was  a  pleasant 
afternoon  in  June,  and  their  way  lay  through  a 
deep  and  shady  wood,  cooled  by  the  light  wind 
which  gently  rustled  the  thick  foliage,  and  en- 
livened by  the  songs  of  the  birds  that  perched 
upon  the  boughs.  The  ivy  and  the  moss  crept  in 
thick  clusters  over  the  old  trees,  and  the  soft  green 
turf  overspread  the  ground  like  a  silken  mat.  They 
emerged  upon  an  open  park,  with  an  ancient  iiall, 
displaying  the  quaint  and  picturesque  architecture 
of  Elizabeth's  time.  Long  vistas  of  stately  oaks 
and  e\m  trees  appeared  on  every  side;  iarge  herds 
of  deer  were  cropping  the  fresh  grass;  and  occa- 
sionally a  startled  hare  scoured  along  the  ground, 
with  the  speed  of  the  shadows  thrown  by  the  light 
clouds  which  sweep  across  a  sunny  landscape  like 
a  passing  breavh  of  summer. 

"If  this,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  about 
him;  "if  this  were  the  place  to  which  all  who  are 
troubled  with  our  friend's  complaint  came,  I  fancy 
their  old  attachment  to  this  world  would  very  soon 
return." 

"  I  think  so,  too,"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"And  really,"  added  Mr.  Pickwick,  after  half  an^ 
hour's  walking  had  brought  them  to  the  village, 
"really,  for  a  misanthrope's  choice,  this  is  one  of 


^00  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

the  prettiest  and  most  desirable  places  of  residence 
I  ever  met  with." 

In  this  opinion,  also,  both  Mr.  Winkle  and  Mr. 
Snodgrass  expressed  their  concurrence ;  and  having 
been  directed  to  the  Leather  Bottle,  a  clean  and 
commodious  vilbge  ale-house,  the  three  travellers 
entered,  and  at  once  inquired  for  a  gentleman  of 
the  name  of  Tupman. 

"  Show  the  gentlemen  into  the  parlour,  Tom," 
said  the  landlady. 

A  stout  country  lad  opened  a  door  at  the  end 
of  the  passage,  and  the  three  friends  entered  a  long, 
low-roofed  room,  furnished  with  a  large  number 
of  high-backed,  leather- cushioned  cliairs  of  fan- 
tastic shapes,  and  embellished  with  a  great  variety 
of  old  portraits  and  roughly  coloured  prints  of  some 
antiquity.  At  the  upper  end  of  the  room  was  a 
table,  with  a  white  cloth  upon  it,  well  covered 
w'ith  a  roast  fowl,  bacon,  ale,  and  et  ceteras;  and 
at  the  table  sat  Mr.  Tupman,  looking  as  unlike  a 
man,  who  had  taken  his  leave  of  the  w'orld,  as  pos- 
sible. 

On  the  entrance  of  his  friends,  that  gentleman 
laid  down  his  knife  and  fork,  and  with  a  mournful 
air  advanced  to  meet  them. 

'•'  I  did  not  expect  to  see  you  here,"  he  said,  as  he 
grasped  Mr.  Pickwick's  hand.     "  It's  very  kind." 

"  Ah !"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  sitting  down,  and 
wiping  from  his  forehead  the  perspiration  which 
the  walk  had  engendered.  "Finish  your  dinner, 
and  walk  out  with  me,  I  wish  to  speak  to  you 
alone.'^ 

Mr.  Tupman  did  as  he  was  desired ;  and  Mr. 
Pickwick,  having  refreshed  himself  w^ith  a  copious 
draught  of  ale,  waited  his  friend's  leisure.  The 
dinner  was  quickly  despatched,  and  they  vvalked 
out  together, . 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


201 


For  half  an  hour  their  forms  might  have  been 
seen  pacing  the  church-yard  to  and  fro,  while  Mr. 
Pickwick  was  engaged  in  combating  his  compa- 
nion's resolution.  Any  repetition  of  his  arguments 
would  be  useless;  for  what  language  could  con- 
vey to  them  that  energy  and  force  which  their 
great  originator's  manner  communicated  ?  Whe- 
ther Mr.  Tupman  was  already  tired  of  retirement, 
or  whether  he  was  wholly  unable  to  resist  the  elo- 
quent appeal  which  was  made  to  him,  matters 
not ;  he  did  not  resist  it  at  last. 

"It  mattered  little  to  him,"  he  said,  '<  whither 
he  drao-o'ed  out    the   miserable  remainder  of  his 

on 

days  ;  and  since  his  friend  laid  so  much  stress  upon 
his  humble  companionship,  he  was  willing  to  share 
his  adventures." 

Mr.  Pickwick  smiled  ;  they  shook  liands ;  and 
walked  back  to  rejoin  their  companions. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  Mr.  Pickwick  made 
that  immortal  discovery,  which  has  been  the  pride 
and  boast  of  his  friends,  and  the  envy  of  every 
antiquarian  in  this  or  any  other  country.  They 
had  passed  the  door  of  their  inn,  and  walked  a  lit- 
tle way  down  the  village,  before  they  recollected 
the  precise  spot  in  which  it  stood.  As  they  turned 
back,  Mr.  Pickwick's  eye  fell  upon  a  small  broken 
stone,  partially  buried  in  the  ground,  in  front  of  a 
cottage  door.     He  paused. 

'<  This  is  very  strange,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  What  is  strange  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Tupman, 
staring  eagerly  at  every  object  near  him  but  the 
right  one.     "  Why,  bless  me,  what's  the  matter?' 

This  last  was  an  ejaculation  of  irrepressible  asto- 
nishment, occasioned  by  seeing  Mr.  Pickwick,  in 
his  enthusiasm  for  discovery,  fall  on  his  knees  be- 
fore the  little  stone,  and  commence  wiping  the  dust 
off  it  with  his  pocket-handkerchief. 


202  POSTHUMOUS  TAPERS  OF 

"  Tiiere  is  an  inscription  here,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick- 

"  Is  it  possible  !"  said  Mr.  Tupman. 
"I  can  discern,"  continued  Mr.  Pickwick,  rub- 
bing away  with  all  his  might,  and  gazing  intently 
through  his  spectacles ;  "  I  can  discern  a  cross, 
and  a  B,  and  then  a  T.  This  is  important,"  con- 
tinued Mr.  Pickwick,  starting  up.  "This  is  some 
very  old  inscription — existing,  perhaps,  long  before 
ancient  alms-houses  in  this  place.  It  must  not  be 
lost. 

He  tapped  at  the  cottage-door  A  labouring 
man  opened  it. 

"  Do  you  know  how  this  stone  came  here,  my 
friend?"  inquired  the  benevolent  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"No,  I  doan't  sir,"  replied  the  man,  civilly.  "  It 
was  here  long"  afore  I  war  born,  or  any  on  us." 

Mr.  Pickwick  glanced  triumphantly  at  his  com- 
panion. 

"You — you — are  not  particularly  attached  to 
it,  I  dare  say,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  trembling  with 
anxiety.     "  You  wouldn't  mind  selling  it  now?" 

"  Ah  !  but  who'd  buy  it  ?"  inquired  the  man,  with 
an  expression  of  face  he  probably  meant  to  be  very 
cunning. 

"  I'll  give  you  ten  shillings  for  it  at  once,"  said 
Mr.  Pickwick,  "if  you  would  take  it  up  for  me." 
The  astonishment  of  the  village  may  be  easily 
imagined,  when  (the  little  stone  bavin":  been  raised 
with  one  wrench  of  a  spade,)  Mr.  Pickwick,  by 
dint  of  great  personal  exertion,  bore  it  with  his  own 
hands  to  the  inn,  and  after  having  carefully  wash- 
ed it,  deposited  it  on  the  table. 

The  exultation  and  joy  of  the  Pickwickians 
knew  no  bounds,  when  their  patience  and  assiduity, 
their  washing  and  scraping,  were  crowned  with 
success.  The  stone  was  uneven  and  broken,  and 
the  letters  were  straggling  and  irregular,  but  the 


TilE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  2(J3 

following  fragment  of  an  inscription  was  clearly 
to  be  deciphered : 

U     M 
P     S     H     I 

S.     M. 
ARK 

Mr.  Pickwick's  eyes  sparkled  with  delight,  as 
he  sat  and  gloated  over  the  treasure  he  had  dis- 
covered. He  had  attained  one  of  the  greatest  ob- 
jects of  his  ambition.  In  a  county  known  to  abound 
in  remains  of  the  early  ages;  in  a  village  in  which 
there  still  existed  some  memorials  of  the  olden 
time,  he — he  the  Chairman  of  the  Pickwick  Club — • 
had  discovered  a  strange  and  curious  inscription  of 
unquestionable  antiquity,  which  had  wholly  escaped 
the  observation  of  many  learned  men  who  had  pre- 
ceded^him.  He  could  hardly  trust  the  evidence 
of  his  senses* 

'•  This— this,"  said  he,  "  determines  me.  We 
return  to  town,  to-morrow." 

"To-morrow!"  exclaimed  his  admiring  follow- 
ers. 

"  To-morrow,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  This  trea- 
sure must  be  at  once  deposited  v/here  it  can  be 
thoroughly  investigated,  and  properly  understood. 
I  have  another  reason  for  this  step.  In  a  few  days, 
an  election  is  to  take  place  for  the  borough  of 
Eatanswill,  at  which  Mr.  Perker,  a  gentleman 
whom  1  lately  m.et,  is  the  agent  of  one  of  the  can- 
didates. We  will' behold,  and  minutely  examine,  a 
scene  so  interesting  to  every  Englishman." 

"We  will,"  was  the  animated  cry  of  three 
voices. 

Mr.  Pickwick  looked  round  him.     The   attach- 


204  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

ment  aud  fervour  of  his  followers,  lighted  up  a 
glow  of  enthusiasm  withia  him.  He  was  their 
leader,  and  he  felt  it. 

*'  Let  us  celehrate  this  happy  meeting,  with  a 
convivial  glass,"  said  he.  This  proposition,  like  the 
other,  was  received  with  unanimous  applause.  And 
having  himself  deposited  the  important  stone  in  a 
small  deal  box,  purchased  from  the  landlady  for 
the  purpose,  he  placed  himself  in  an  arm-chair  at 
the  head  of  the  table;  and  the  evening  was  devo- 
ted to  festivity  and  conversation. 

It  was  past  eleven  o'clock — a  late  hour  for  the 
little  village  of  Cobham — when  Mr.  Pickwick  re- 
tired to  the  bed-room  which  had  been  prepared 
for  his  reception.  He  threw  open  the  lattice-win- 
dow, and  setting  his  light  upon  the  table,  fell  into  a 
train  of  meditation  on  the  hurried  events  of  the 
two  preceding  days. 

The  hour  and  the  place  were  both  favourable  to 
contemplation  ;  Mr.  Pickwick  was  roused,  by  the 
church-clock  striking  twelve.  The  first  stroke  of 
the  hour  sounded  solemnly  in  his  ear,  but  when  the 
bell  ceased,  the  stilness  seemed  insupportable; — he 
almost  felt  as  if  he  had  lost  a  companion.  He  was 
nervous  and  excited  ;  and  hastily  undressing  him- 
self, and  placing  his  light  in  the  chimney,  got  into 
bed. 

Every  one  has  experienced  that  disagreeable 
state  of  mind,  in  which  a  sensation  of  bodily  wea- 
riness in  vain  contends  against  an  inability  to  sleep. 
It  was  Mr.  Pickwick's  condition  at  this  moment ; 
he  tossed  first  on  one  side  and  then  on  the  other; 
and  persevcringly  closed  his  eyes  as  if  to  coax 
himself  to  slumber.  It  was  of  no  use.  Whether 
it  was  the  unwonted  exertion  he  had  undergone, 
or  the  heat,  or  the  brandy  and  water,  or  the  strange 
bed — whatever  it  was,  his  thoughts  kept  reverting 
very  uncomfortably   to  the    grim  pictures   down 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  205 

stairs,  and  the  old  stories  to  which  they  had  given 
rise  in  the  course  of  the  evening.  After  half  an 
hour's  tumbling  about,  he  came  to  the  unsatisfac- 
tory conclusion,  that  it  was  of  no  use  trying  to 
sleep ;  so  he  got  up  and  partially  dressed  himself. 
Any  thing,  he  thought,  was  better  than  lying  there 
fancying  all  kind  of  horrors.  He  looked  out  of  the 
window — it  was  very  dark.  He  walked  about  the 
room — it  was  very  lonely. 

He  had  taken  a  few  turns  from  the  door  to 
the  w'indow  and  from  the  window  to  the  door, 
when  the  clergyman's  manuscript  for  the  first 
time  entered  his  head.  It  was  a  good  thought. 
If  it  failed  to  interest  him  it  might  send  him  to 
sleep.  He  took  it  from  his  coat-pocket,  and  draw- 
ing a  small  table  towards  his  bed-side,  trimmed 
the  light,  put  on  his  spectacles,  and  composed 
himself  to  read.  It  was  a  strange  hand- writing, 
and  the  paper  was  much  soiled  and  blotted.  The 
title  gave  him  a  sudden  start,  too  ;  and  he  could  not 
avoid  casting  a  wistful  glance  round  the  room.  Re- 
flecting on  the  absurdity  of  giving  way  to  such 
feelings,  however,  he  trimmed  the  light  again,  and 
read  as  follows: 


A  MADMAN'S  MANUSCRIPT. 

-'  Ves  ! — a  madman's  !  How  that  word  would 
have  struck  to  my  heart,  many  years  ago !  How  it 
would  have  roused  the  terror  that  used  to  come 
upon  me  sometimes;  sending  the  blood  hissing  and 
tingling  through  my  veins,  'till  the  cold  dew  of  fear 
stood  in  large  drops  upon  my  skin,  and  my  knees 
knocked  together  with  fright!  1  like  it  now, 
though.  It's  a  fine  name.  Show  me  the  monarch 
whose  angry  frown  was  ever  feared  like  the  glare 
of  a  madman's  eye — whose  cord  and  axe  were 
18 


206  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

ever  half  so  sure  as  a  madman's  gripe.  Ho!  ho! 
It's  a  grand  thing  to  be  mad  !  to  be  peeped  at  like 
a  wild  lion  through  the  iron  bars — to  gnash  one's 
teeth  and  howl,, through  the  long  still  night,  to  the 
merry  ring  of  a  heavy  chain — and  to  roll  and 
twine  among  the  straw,  transported  with  such 
brave  music.  Hurrah  for  the  madhouse  !  Oh,  it's 
a  rare  place  I 

"  I  remember  days  when  I  was  afruid  of  being 
mad ;  when  I  used  to  start  from  my  sleep,  and  fall 
upon  my  knees,  and  pray  to  be  spared  from  the 
curse  of  my  race ;  when  I  rushed  from  the  sight 
of  merriment  or  happiness,  to  iiide  myself  in  some 
lonely  place,  and  spend  the  weary  hours  in  watch- 
ing the  progress  of  the  fever  that  was  to  consume 
my  brain.  I  knew  that  madness  was  mixed  up 
with  my  very  blood,  and  the  marrow  of  my  bones ; 
that  one  generation  had  passed  away  without  the 
pestilence  appearing  among  them,  and  that  1  was 
the  first  in  w^hom  it  would  revive.  I  knew  it  must 
be  so;  that  so  it  always  had  been,  and  so  it  ever 
would  be :  and  when  I  cowered  in  some  obscure 
corner  of  a  crowded  room,  and  saw  men  whisper, 
and  point,  and  turn  their  eyes  towards  me,  I  knew 
they  were  telling  each  other  of  the  doomed  mad- 
man; and  I  slunk  away  again  to  mope  in  soli- 
tude. 

"I  did. this  for  years;  long,  long  years  they 
were.  The  nights  here  are  long  sometimes — very 
long;  but  they  are  nothing  to  tlie  restless  nights, 
and  dreadful  dreams,  I  had  at  that  time.  It  makes 
me  cold  to  remember  them.  Large  dusky  forms, 
with  sly  and  jeering  faces,  crouched  in  the  cor- 
ners of  the  room,  and  bent  over  my  bed  at  night, 
tempting  me  to  madness.  They  told  me,  in  low 
whispers,  that  the  floor  of  tlie  old  house  in  which 
my  father's  father  diedj  was  stained  with  his  own 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  207 

blood,  shed  by  his  own  hand  in  raging  madness.  1 
drove  my  fingers  into  my  ears,  but  Ihey  screamed 
into  my  head  'lill  the  room  rang  with  it,  that  in 
one  generation  before  him  the  madness  slumbered, 
but  that  his  grandfather  had  lived  for  years  with 
his  hands  fettered  to  the  ground,  to  prevent  his 
tearing  himself  to  pieces.  I  knew  they  told  the 
truth — I  knew  it  well.  I  had  found  it  out  years 
before,  though  they  had  tried  to  keep  it  from  me. 
Ha!  ha  !  I  was  too  cunning  for  them,  madman  as 
they  thought  me. 

"  At  last  it  came  upon  me,  and  I  wondered  how 
1  could  ever  have  feared  it.  I  could  go  into  the 
world  now,  and  laugh  and  shout  with  the  best 
among  them.  I  knew  1  was  mad,  but  they  did 
not  even  suspect  it.  How  I  used  to  hug  myself 
with  delight,  when  I  thought  of  the  fine  trick  I 
was  playing  them  after  their  old  pointing  and  leer- 
ing, when  I  was  not  mad,  but  only  dreading  that 
I  might  one  day  become  so !  And  how  I  used  to 
laugh  for  joy,  when  I  was  alone,  and  thought  how 
well  I  kept  my  secret,  and  how  quickly  my  kind 
friends  would  have  fallen  from  me,  if  they  had 
known  the  truth.  I  could  have  screamed  with 
.ecstacy  when  I  dined  alone  with  some  fine  roaring 
fellow,  to  think  how  pale  he  would  have  turned, 
and  how  fiist  he  would  have  run,  if  he  had  known 
that  the  dear  friend  who  sat  close  to  him,  sharp- 
ening a  bright  glittering  knife  was  a  madman,  with 
all  the  power  and  half  the  will,  to  plunge  it  in  his 
heart.     Oh,  it  was  a  merry  life  ' 

"Riches  became  mine,  wealth  poured  in  upon 
me,  and  I  rioted  in  pleasures,  enhanced  a  thousand 
fold  to  me  by  the  consciousness  of  my  well-kept 
secret.  I  inherited  an  estate.  The  law — the  eagle- 
eyed  law  itself—had  been  deceived,  and  had 
hp,nded  over  disputed   thousands  to  a  madman's 


208  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

hands.  Where  was  the  wit  of  ihc  sharp  sighted 
men  of  sound  mind?  Where  the  dexterity  of  the 
lawyers,  eager  to  discover  a  flaw  ?  The  madman's 
cunning  had  over-reached  them  all. 

''  I  had  money.  How  I  was  courted  !  I  spent 
it  profusely.  How  I  was  praised !  How  those 
three  proud  overbearing  brothers  humbled  them- 
selves before  me!  The  old  white-headed  father, 
toor^such  deference — such  respect- — such  devoted 
friendship — why,  he  w^orshipped  me.  The  old  man 
had  a  daughter,  and  the  ^-oung  men  a  sister;  and 
all  the  five  were  poor.  I  was  rich ;  and  when  I 
married  the  girl,  I  saw  a  smile  of  triumph  play 
upon  the  faces  of  her  needy  relatives,  as  they 
thought  of  their  well-planned  schemes,  and  their 
fine  prize.  It  was  for  me  to  smile.  To  smile! 
To  laugh  outright,  and  tear  my  hair,  and  roll  upon 
the  ground  with  shrieks  of  meriment.  They  little 
thought  they  had  married  her  to  a  madman. 
-|.i,  "  Stay.  If  they  had  known  it,  would  they  have 
saved  her?  A  sister's  happiness  against  her  lius- 
band's  gold.  The  lightest  feather  I  blow^  into  the 
air,  against  the  gay  chain  that  ornaments  my  body ! 

"In  one  thing  Iwas  deceived,  with  all  my  cun- 
ning. If  I  had  not  been  mad, — for  though  we 
madman  are  sharp-witted  enough,  we  get  bevN'il- 
dered  sometimes, — I  should  have  know-n  that  tlie 
girl  would  rather  have  been  placed,  stiff  and  cold, 
in  a  dull  leaden  coffin,  than  borne  aji  envied  bride 
to  my  rich  glittering  house.  I  should  have  known 
that  her  heart  was  with  the  dark-eyed  boy,  wdiose 
name  I  once  heard  her  breathe  in  her  troubled 
sleep;  and  that  she  had  been  sacrificed  to  me,  to 
relieve  the  poverty  of  the  old  white-headed  man, 
and  the  haughty  brothers, 

"  I  don't  remember  forms  or  faces  now,  but  I 
l<;now  the  girl  was  beautiful.     I  knoxv  she  was; 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  209 

for  in  the  bright  moonlight  nights,  when  I  start 
up  from  my  sleep,  and  all  is  quiet  about  me,  I  see, 
standing  still  and  motionless  in  one  corner  of  this 
cell,  a  slight  and  wasted  figure,  with  long  black 
hair,  which,  streaming  down  her  back,  stirs  with 
no  earthly  wind,  and  eyes  that  fix  their  gaze  on 
me,  and  never  wink  or  close.  Hush!  the  blood 
chills  at  my  heart  as  I  write  it  down — that  form  is 
her^s ;  the  face  is  very  pale,  and,  the  eyes  are 
glassy  bright :  but  I  know  them  well.  Tha*^t  figure 
never  moves  ;  it  never  frowns  and  mouths  as  others 
do,  that  fill  this  place  sometimes ;  but  it  is  much 
more  dreadful  to  me,  even  than  the  spirits  that 
tempted  me  many  years  ago — it  comes  fresh  from 
the  ^rave;  and  is  so  very  death-like. 

"  For  nearly  a  year  I  saw  that  face  grow  paler  : 
for  nearly  a  year,  I  saw  the  tears  steal  down  the 
mournful  cheeks,  and  never  knew  the  cause.  I 
found  it  out  at  last  though.  They  could  not  keep 
it  from  me  long.  She  had  never  liked  me  ;  I  had 
never  thought  she  did  :  she  despised  my  wealth,  and 
hated  the  splendour  in  which  she  lived  ; — I  had  not 
expected  that.  She  loved  another.  This  I  had 
never  thoutrht  of.  Stranoje  feelinsrs  came  over  me, 
and  thoughts  forced  upon  me  by  some  secret  pow- 
er, whirled  round  and  round  my  brain.  I  did  not 
hate  her,  though  1  hated  the  boy  she  still  wept  for. 
I  pitied — yes,  I  pitied — the  wretched  life  to  which 
her  cold  and  selfish  relations  had  doomed  her.  I 
knew  that  she  could  not  live  long,  but  the  thought 
that  before  her  death  she  might  give  birth  to  some 
ill-fated  being,  destined  to  hand  down  madness  to 
its  offspring,  determined  me.  I  resolved  to  kill 
her. 

*^  For  many  weeks  I  thought  of  poison,  and  then 
of  drowning,  and  then  of  fire.  A  fine  sight  the 
grand  house  in  flames,  and  the  madman's  wife 
18* 


2l0  POSTHUMOUS  i>AI*ER5  Of 

siliouldering  away  to  cinders.  Think  of  the  jest 
of  a  large  reward,  too,  and  of  some  sane  man 
swinging  in  the  wind,  for  a  deed  he  never  did,  and 
all  through  a  madman's  cunning  !  I  thought  often 
of  this,  but  I  gave  it  up  at  last.  Oh  I  the  pleasure 
of  stropping  the  razor  day  after  day,  feeling,  the 
sharp  edge,  and  .thinking  of  the  gash  one  stroke  of 
its  thin  bright  point  would  make! 

"  At  last  the  old  spirits  who  had  beer?  with  me  so 
often  before,  whispered  in  my  ear  that  the  time 
was  come,  and  thrust  the  open  razor  into  my  hand. 
1  grasped  it  firmly,  rose  softly  from  the  bed,  and 
leaned  over  my  sleeping  wife.  Her  face  was  bu- 
ried in  her  hands.  I  withdrew  them  softly,  and 
the}'  fell  li-stlessly  on  her  bosom.  She  had  been 
w'^eeping,  for  the  traces  of  the  tears  were  still  wet 
upon  her  cheek.  Her  face  was  calm  and- placid; 
and  even  as  I  looked  upon  it,  a  tranquil  smile  light- 
ed up  her  pale  features.  I  laid  my  hand  softly  on 
her  shoulder.  She  started — it  was  only  a  passing 
dream.  I  leaned  forward  again.  She  screamed, 
apd  woke. 

"  One  motion  of  my  hand,  and  she  would  never 
again  have  uttered  cry  or  sound.  But  1  was  start- 
led, and  drew  back.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  mine. 
I  know  not  how  it  was,  but  they  cowed  and  friglu- 
eaed  me;  and  I  quailed  beneath  them.  She  rose 
from  the  bed,  still  gazing  fixedly  and  steadily  on 
me.  Itrembled  ;  tlie  razor  was  in  my  hand,  but  I 
Gould  not  move.  She  made  towards  the  door. 
As  she  neared  it,  she  turned,  and  withdrew  her  eyes 
from  my  face.  The  spell  was  broken.  I 
bounded  forward,  and  clutched  her  by  the  arm. 
Uttering  shriek  upon  shriek,  she  sunk  upon  the 
gt'ound. 

*«Now  1  could  have  killed  her  without  a  strug- 
gle;   but    the  house   was  alarmed.     I  heard  the 


THE   PICKWICK  CLUB.  211 

tfead  of  footsteps  on  the  stairs.  I  jeplaced  the 
razor  in  its  usual  drawer,  unfastened, the  door,  and 
called  loudly  for  assistance. 

"  The}"  came  and  raised  her,  and  placed  her  on 
the  bed.  She  lay  bereft  of  animation  for  hours; 
and  when  life,  look,  and  speech  returned,  her  sen- 
ses had  deserted  her,  and  she  raved  wildly  and  fu- 
riously. 

'•  Doctors  were  called  in— rgreat  men  who  rolled 
up  to  my  door  in  easy  carriages,  with  fine  horses  and 
gaudy  servants.  They  were  at  her  bedside  for  weeks. . 
They  had  a  great  meeting, and  consulted  together  in 
low  and  solemn  voices  in  another  room.  One,  the 
cleverest  and  most  celebrated  among  them,  took  me. 
aside  and  biddiiig.me  prepare  for  the  worst,  told  me, 
— me,  the  madman!— that  my  wife  was  mad.  He 
stood  close  beside  me  at  an  open  v»'indow,  his  eyes 
looking  in  my  face,  and  his  hand  laid  upon  my 
arm.  With  one  eifort,  I  could  have  hurled  hifn 
into  the  street  beneatli.  It  would  have  been  rare 
sport  to  have  done  it ;  b"t  .my  secret  was  at 
stake,  and  I  let  him  go.  A  few. days  after,  they 
told  me  I  must  place  her  under  some  restraint:  I 
must  provide  a  keeper  for  her.  //  I  went  into  the 
open  fields  where  none  could  hear  me,  and  laugh- 
ed till  the  air  resounded  with  my  shouts! 

'■  She  died'  next  d'<-^y'  The  white-headed  old 
man  followed  her  to  the  grave,  and  the  proud  bro- 
thers dropped  a  tear  over  the  insensible  corpse  of 
her  whose  sufFerings  they  had  I'egarded  in  her  life- 
time with  muscles  of  iron.  All  this  was  food  for 
my  secret  mirth,  and  I  laughed  behind  the  white 
handkerchief  which  I  held  up  to  my  face  as  we 
rode  home,  'till  the  tears  came  into  my  eyes. 

"  But  though  I  had  carried  my  object  and  killed 
her,  I  was  restless  and  disturbed,  and  I  felt  that 
before  long  my  secret  must  be  known.    I  could  not 


212  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  or 

hide  the  wild  mirth  and  joy  which  boiled  within  me, 
and  made  me  when  I  was  alone,  at  home,  jump  up 
and  beat  my  hands  together,  and  dance  round  and 
round,  and  roar  aloud.  When  I  went  out,  and  saw 
the  busy  crowds  hurrying  about  the  streets:  or  to 
the  theatre,  and  heard  the  sound  of  music,  and  be- 
held the  people  dancing,  1  felt  suchglee,  that  I  could 
have  rushed  among  them,  and  torn  them  to  pieces 
limb  from  limb,  and  howled  in  transport.  But  I 
ground  my  teeth,  and  struck  my  feet  upon  the 
floor,  and  drove  *my  sharp  nails  into  my  hands.  1 
kept  it  down;  and  no  one  knew  that  I  was  a  mad- 
man yet. 

''J  remember — though  it  is  one  of  the  last  things 
I  can  remember:  for  now  I  mix  realities  with  my 
dreams,  and  having  so  much  to  do,  and  being  al- 
ways hurried  here,  have  no  lime  to  separate  the 
two,  from  some  strange  confusion  in  which  they 
get  involved — I  remember  how  I  let  it  out  at  last. 
Ha !  ha  !  I  think  I  see  their  frightened  looks  now, 
and  feel  the  ease  with  which  I  flung  them  from 
me,  and  dashed  my  clenched  fists  into  their  white 
faces,  and  then  flew  like  the  wind,  and  left  them 
screaming  and  shouting  far  behind.  The  strength 
of  a  giant  comes  upon  me  when  I  think  of  it.  There 
— see  how  this  iron  bar  bends  beneath  my  furious 
wrench.  I  could  snap  it  like  a  twig,  only  there 
are  long  galleries  here  with  many  doors — I  don't 
think  I  could  find  my  way  along  them  :  and  even 
if  I  could,  I  know  there  are  iron  gates  below  which 
they  keep  locked  and  barred.  They  know  what 
a  clever  madman  I  have  been  and  they  are  proud 
to  have  me  here  to  show. 

"Let  me  see; — yes,  I  had  been  out.  It  was 
late  at  night  when  1  reached  home,  and  found  the 
pi'oudest  of  the  three  proud  brothers,  waiting  to 
see  me — urgent  business  he  said:    I  recollect  it 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


213 


well.  I  hated  that  man  with  all  a  madman's  hate. 
Many  and  many  a  time  had  my  fingers  longed  to 
tear  him.  They  told  me  he  was  there.  I  ran 
swiftly  up  stairs.  He  had  a  word  to  say  to  me.  I 
dismissed  the  servants.  It  was  late,  and  we  were 
alone  together— ^/br  thejirst  time. 

"  I  kept  my  ej^es  carefully  from  him  at  first,  for 
I  knev/  what  he  little  thought— and  I  gloried  in 
the  knowledge — that  the  light  of  madness  gleamed 
from  them  lilvC  fire.  We  sat  in  silence  for  a  few 
minutes.  Hespokeatlast.  My  recent  dissipation, 
and  strange  rem.arks,  made  so  soon  after  his  sis-; 
ter's  death,  were  ar^ insult  to  her  memory.  Coupling 
together  maiiy  circumstances  which  had  at  first 
escaped  his  observation,  he  thought  I  had  not 
treated  her  well.  He  wished  to  know  whether  he 
was  right  in  inferring  that  I  meant  to  cast  a  re- 
proach upon  her  memory,  and  a  disrespect  upon 
her  family.  It  was  due  to  the  uniform  he  wore, 
to  demand  this  explanation. 

"  This  man  had  a  commission  in  the  army — a 
commission,  purchased  with  my  money,  and  his 
sister's  miser}^  This  was  the  man  who  had  been 
foremost  in  the  plot  to  ensnare  me,  and  grasp  my 
wealth.  This  was  the  man  who  had  been  the  main 
instrument  in  forcing  his  sister  to  wed  me ;  well 
knowing  that  her  heart  was  given  to  that  puling 
boy.  Due  !  Due  to  Ids  unifoi-m  !  .The  livery  of 
his  degradation  !  I  turned  my  eyes  upon  him— 
1  could  not  help  it — but  I  spoke  not  a  word. 

"  I  saw  the  sudden  change  that  came  upon  him, 
beneath  my  gaze.  He  was  a  bold  man,  but  the 
colour  faded  from  his  face,  and  he  drew  back  his 
chair.  I  dragged  mine  nearer  to  him;  and  as  I 
laughed— I  was  very  merry  then— I  saw  him 
shudder.  I  felt  the  madness  rising  within  me,  He 
W^s  afraid  of  me., 


214  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

"  '  You  were  very  fond  of  your  sister  when  she 
was  alive' — I  said  '  Very.' 

"He  looked  uneasily  round  him,  and  I  saw  his 
hand  grasp  the  back  of  his  chair:  but  he  said 
nothing. 

*'*  You  villain,'  said  I,  '1  found  you  out;  I  dis- 
covered your  hellish  plots  against  me  ;  I  know  her 
heart  was  fixed  on  some  one  else  before  you  com- 
pelled her  to  marry  me.     1  know  it — 1  know  it.' 

"  He  jumped  suddenly  from  his  chair, "brandished 
it  aloft,  and  bid  me  stand  back — for  I  took  care  to 
be  getting  closer  to  him,  all  the  time  I  spoke. 

"I  screamed  rather  than  talked,  for  I  felt  tu- 
multuous passions  eddying  through  my  veins,  and 
the  old  spirits  whispering  and  taunting  me  to  tear 
his  heart  out. 

*' '  Damn  you,'  said  I,  starting  up,  and  rushing 
upon  him  ;  '  I  killed  her.  lama  madman.  Down 
with  you.     Blood,  blood,  I  will  have  it.' 

^'  I  turned  aside  with  one  blow,  the  chair  he 
hurled  at  me  in  his  terror,  and  closed  with  him ; 
and  with  a  heavy  crash,  we  rolled  upon  the  floor 
together. 

"  It  was  a  fine  struggle  that,  for  he  was  a  tall 
strong  man,  fighting  for  his  life;  and  I,  a  powerful 
madman,  thirsting  to  destroy  him.  I  knew  no 
strength  could  equal  mine,  and  I  was  right.  Right, 
again,  though  a  madman  !  His  struggles  grew  faint- 
er. I  knelt  upon  his  chest,  and  clasped  his  brawny 
throat,  firmly  with  both  hands.  His  face  grew 
purple;  his  eyes  were  starting  from  his  head,  and 
with  protruded  tongue,  he  seemed  to  mock  me.  I 
squeezed  the  tighter. 

*'  The  door  was  suddenly  burst  open  with  a  loud 
noise,  and  a  crowd  of  people  rushed  forward,  cry- 
ing aloud  to  each  other,  to  secure  the  madman. 

^'My  secret  was  out ;  and  my  on\j  struggle  now 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  215 

was  for  liberty  and  freedom.  1  gained  my  feet 
before  a  hand  was  on  me,  threw  myself  among  my 
assailants,  and  cleared  my  way  with  my  strong 
arm  as  if  I  bore  a  hatchet  in  my  hand,  and  hewed 
them  down  before  me.  I  gained  the  door,  dropped 
over  the  banisters,  and  in  an  instant  was  in  the 
street. 

"Straight  and  swift  I  ran,  and  no  one  dared  to 
stop  me.  I  heard  the  noise  of  feet  behind,  and  re- 
doubled my  speed.  It  grew  fainter  and  fainter  in 
the  distance,  and  at  length  died  away  altogether; 
but  on  I  bounded,  through  marsh  and  rivulet,  over 
fence  and  wall,  with  a  wild  shout  which  was  taken 
up  by  the  strange  beings  that  flocked  around  me 
on  every  side,  and  swelled  the  sound,  till  it  pierced 
the  air.  I  was  borne  upon  the  arms  of  demons 
who  swept  along  upon  the  wind,  and  bore  down 
bank  and  hedge  before  them,  and  spun  me  round 
and  round  with  a  rustle  and  a  speed  that  made  my 
head  swim,  until  at  last  they  threw  me  from  them 
with  a  violent  shock,  and  1  fell  heavily  upon  the 
earth.  When  I  awoke  I  found  myself  here — here 
in  this  gay  cell  where  the  sun-light  seldom  comes, 
and  the  moon  steals  in,  in  rays  which  only  serve 
to  show  the  dark  shadows  about  me,  and  that  silent 
figure  in  its  old  corner.  When  1  lie  awake,  I  can 
sometimes  hear  strange  shrieks  and  cries  from  dis- 
tant parts  of  this  large  place.  What  they  are,  I 
know  not;  but  they  neither  come  from  that  pale 
form,  nor  does  it  regard  them.  For  from  the  first 
shades  of  dusk  'till  the  earliest  light  of  morning,  it 
still  stands  motionless  in  the  same  place,  listening 
to  the  music  of  my  iron  chain,  and  watching  my 
gambols  on  my  straw  bed." 

At  the  end  of  the  manuscript,  was  written,  in 
another  hand,  this  note  : — 

[The  unhappy  man  whose  ravings  are  recorded 


216  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

above,  was  a  melancholy  instance  of  the  baneful 
results  of  energies  misdirected  in  early  life,  and 
excesses  prolonged  until  their  consequences  could 
never  be  repaired.  The  thoughtless  riot,  dissipa- 
tion, and  debauchery  of  his  younger  days,  pro- 
duced fever  and  delirium.  The  first  effects  of  the 
latter,  Vv^as  the  strange  delusion,  founded  upon  a  well- 
known  medical  thcor}^,  strongly  contended  for  by 
some,  and  as  strongly  contested  by  others,  that  an 
hereditary  madness  existed  in  his  family.  This 
produced  a  settled  gloom,  which  in  time  developed 
a  morbid  insanity,  and  finally  terminated  in  raving 
madness.  There  is  every  re'ason  to  believe  that 
the  events  he  detailed,  though  distorted  in  the  de- 
scription by  his  diseased  imagination,  really  hap- 
pened. It  is  only  matter  of  wonder  to  those  who 
were  acquainted  with  the  vices  of  his  early  career, 
that  his  passions,  when  no  longer  controlled  by 
reason,  did  not  lead  him  to  the  commission  of  sti.ll 
more  frightful  deeds.] 

Mr.  Pickwick's  candle  was  just  expiring  in  ihe 
socket,  as  he  concluded  the  perusal  of  the  old  cler- 
gyman's manuscript;  and  when  the  light  went  sud- 
denly out,  v.'ithout  any  previous  flicker  by  way  of 
warning,  it  communicated  a  very  considerable 
start  to  his  excited  frame.  Hastily  throwing  off 
such  articles  of  clothing  as  he  had  put  on  when  he 
rose  from  his  uneasy  bed,  and  casting  a  fearful 
glance  around,  he  once  more  scrambled  hastily 
between  the  sheets,  and  soon  fell  fiist  asleep. 

The  sun  was  shining  brilliantly  into  his  chamber 
when  he  awoke,  and  the  morning  was  far  ad- 
vanced. The  gloom,  which  had  oppressed  him  on 
the  previous  night,  had  disappeared  with  the  dark 
shadows  which  shrouded  the  landscape,  and  his 
thoughts  and  feelings  were   as  light  and   gay  as 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  217 

the  morning  itself.  After  a  hearty  breakfast,  the 
four  gentlemen  sallied  forth  to  walk  to  Gravesend, 
followed  by  a  man  bearing  the  stone  in  its  deal  box. 
They  reached  that  town  about  one  o'clock,  (their 
luggage  they  had  directed  to  be  forwarded  to  the 
city,  iiom  Rochester,)  and  being  fortunate  enough 
to  secure  places  on  the  outside  of  a  coach,  arrived 
in  London,  in  sound  health  and  spirits,  on  that 
same  afternoon. 

The  next  three  or  four  days  w^ere  occupied  with 
the  preparations  which  were  necessary  for  their 
journey  to  the  borough  of  Eatanswill.  As  any  re- 
ference to  that  most  important  undertaking  de- 
mands a  separate  chapter,  we  may  devote  the  few- 
lines  which  remain  at  the  close  of  this,  to  narrate, 
with  great  brevity,  the  history  of  the  antiquarian 
discovery. 

It  appears  from  the  Transactions  of  the  Club, 
then,  that  Mr.  Pickwick  lectured  upon  the  discovery 
at  a  general  Club  Meeting,  convened  on  the  night 
succeeding  their  return,  and  entered  into  a  variety 
of  ingenious  and  erudite  speculations  on  the  mean- 
ing of  the  inscription.  It  also  appears  that  a  skilful 
artist  executed  a  faithful  delineation  of  the  curiosi- 
ty which  was  engraven  on  stone,  and  presented  to 
the  Royal  Antiquarian  Society,  and  other  learned 
bodies,  that  heart-burnings  and  jealousies  without 
number  were  created  by  rival  controversies  which 
were  penned  upon  the  subject — and  that  Mr.  Pick- 
wick himself  wrote  a  pamphlet,  containing  ninety- 
six  pages  of  very  small  print,  and  twenty-seven 
different  readings  of  the  inscription.  That  three 
old  gentlemen  cut  otf  their  eldest  sons  with  a  shil- 
ling a-piece,  for  presuming  to  doubt  the  antiquity 
of  the  fragment — and  that  one  enthusiastic  indivi- 
dual cut  himself  off  prematurely  in  despair  at  being 
unable  to  fathom  its  meaning.  That  Mr.  Pickwick 
was  elected  an  honorary  member  of  seventeen  ua- 


218  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

tive  and  foreign  societies,  for  making  the  discovery ; 
that  none  of  the  seventeen  could  niake  any:  thing 
of  it,  but  that  all  the  seventeen  agreed  it  was  very 
extraordinary. 

Mr.  Blotton,  indeed — and  the  name  will  be 
doomed  to  the  undying  contempt  of  those  who  cul- 
tivate the  mysterious  and  the  sublime — Mr.  Blot- 
ton,  we  say,  with  the  doubt  and  cavilling  peculiar 
to  vulgar  minds,  presumed  to  state  a  view  of  the 
case,  as  degrading  as  ridiculous.  Mr.  Blotton, 
with  a  mean  desire  to  tarnish  the  lustre  of  the  im- 
mortal name  of  Pickwick,  actually  undertook  a 
journey  to  Cobham  in  person,  and  on  his  return, 
sarcastically  observed  in  an  oration  at  the  club, 
that  he  had  seen  the  man  from  whom  the  stone 
was  purchased ;  that  the  man  presumed  the  stone 
to  be  ancient,  but  solemnly  denied  the  antiquity  of 
the  inscription — inasmuch  as  he  represented  it  to 
have  been  rudely  carved  by  himself  in  an  idle 
mood,  and  to  display  letters  intended  to  bear  neither 
more  nor  less  than  the  simple  construction  of — 
''Bill  Stumps,  his  mark;"  and  that  Mr.  Stumps, 
being  little  in  the  habit  of  original  composition,  and 
more  accustomed  to  be  guided  by  the  sound  of 
words  than  by  tlie  strict  rules  of  orthography, 
had  omitted  the  concluding  "  L"  of  his  christian 
name. 

The  Pickwick  Club,  as  might  have  been  expect- 
ed from  so  enlightened  an  institution,  received  this 
statement  with  the  contempt  it  deserved,  expelled 
the  presumptuous  and  ill-conditioned  Blotton  from 
the  society,  and  voted  Mr.  Pickwick  a  pair  of  gold 
spectacles,  in  token  of  their  confidence  and  appro- 
bation;  in  return  for  which  Mr.  Pickwick  caused 
a  portrait  of  himself  to  be  painted,  and  hung  up 
in  the  club-room — which  portrait,  by  the  by,  he  did 
not  wish  to  have  destroyed  when  he  grew  a  few 
years  older. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  219 

Mr.  Blotton  was  ejected,  but  not  conquerecl.  He 
also  wrote  a  pamphlet,  addressed  to  the  seventeen 
learned  societies,  containing  a  repetition  of  the 
statement  he  had  already  made,  and  rather  more 
than  half  intimating  his  opinion  that  the  seventeen 
learned  societies  aforesaid  were  so  many  "  hum- 
bugs." Hereupon  the  virtuous  indignation  of  the 
seventeen  learned  societies  being  roused,  several 
fresh  pamphlets  appeared ;  the  foreign  learned  so- 
cieties corresponded  with  the  native  learned  socie- 
ties, the  native  learned  societies  translated  the  pam- 
phlets of  the  foreign  learned  societies  into  English, 
the  foreign  learned  societies  translated  the  pam- 
phlets of  the  native  learned  societies  into  all 
sorts  of  languages:  and  thus  commenced  that  ce- 
lebrated scientitic  discussion,  so  well  known  to  all 
men  as  the  Pickwick  controversy. 

But  this  base  attempt  to  injure  Mr.  Pickwick, 
recoiled  upon  the  head  of  its  calumnious  author. 
The  seventeen  learned  societies  unanimously  voted 
the  presumptuous  Blotton  an  ignorant  meddler ;  and 
forthwith  set  to  work  upon  more  treatises  than 
ever.  And  to  this  day  the  stone  remains  an  illegi- 
ble monument  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  greatness,  and  a 
lasting  trophy  of  the  littleness  of  his  enemies. 


[To  BE  COKTINUEB.] 


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